


Special

by Stealthlamb1



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, First Time, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Slash, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1583306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stealthlamb1/pseuds/Stealthlamb1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has always thought Mike Ross was special. Unfortunately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ignorance Is Bliss

Chapter 1 – Ignorance Is Bliss

 

Engulfed with the file in his hand, Mike raises his arm, his fist ineffectually trying to make contact with Harvey’s door until a deep sigh during his fourth swing brings him back to his surroundings. “Its open, Mike.”

 

Mike looks at the door, then back to Donna, a smirk on his face. “How long were you going to let me stand here?”

 

“You surpassed amusing around the second swing.” She grins jauntily. “But then you skipped over sad and annoying and I draw the line at distracting.”

 

“Distracting,” Harvey chimes in from the comfort of desk chair, an amused look on his face.

“Kind of like that hideous tie you’re wearing.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Mike enters Harvey’s office, Donna’s ‘that was my line,’ following him from her lips to the intercom on Harvey’s desk where he flops into a chair. “What’s with the open door? It’s actually a bit creepy. Makes you seem accessible or something.”

 

“It’s a present for Donna,” Harvey replies tone almost chipper as the two exchange a conspiratorial smile. “It draws people in and she gets to deny them entry. It’s amusing.”

 

 “Slow morning for you, then,” Mike parries. “If you need something to do…” he trails off at Harvey’s narrowed eyes. “Anyway, you rang, my liege?”

 

“Twenty minutes ago,” Harvey counters, then gestures to the file in Mike’s hand. “And that is?”

 

“Gibson Produce,” Mike supplies. “It’s a trademark infringement case that-“

 

“Holds no interest for me,” Harvey finishes, cutting Mike off. “That’s not one of mine,” his tone both neutral and reproachful at the same time as only Harvey can manage.

 

“Ah, no.” Mike snaps the file shut and picks a baseball up from its pedestal in front of him. “This is for-“

 

“Again,” Harvey interrupts abruptly. “Not mine and therefor not interested. Also, trademark infringement? Really? Any one of those monkeys in the associates pool can handle that.”

 

“That’s funny,” Mike smiles, pulling a slip of paper from the folder for Harvey to see. “Because the logo in question is a depiction of a monkey with a-”

 

“This however,” Harvey continues as though the younger man hadn’t spoken, slapping a file down on the desk, “ is a real case.”

 

Mike reaches for the folder, but it’s snatched back before his fingers can make contact. “Okay, I know read fast but even my superior brain powers don’t actually include x-ray vision.”

 

“I’m going to let the client brief you when he gets here at this afternoon.”

 

Mike’s brow creased in confusion. “And you prefer me going in blind, why?”

 

“Client’s request,” Harvey answers, and though he’s stating it like its business as usual, something about it obviously irks him. “I haven’t been given the particulars just yet either,” he finally admits. “Jessica just passed along to Donna that I should clear my schedule for a confidential VIP client meeting today. We’ll find out the rest when he gets here.”

 

“Is that unusual?” Mike frowns.

 

“No.” Setting the file down Harvey leans back in his chair. “We deal with some,” the older man paused, searching for the right word, “delicate matters on occasion – high profile people with fidelity issues to corporations that deal in matters of national security. Normally, Jessica likes to keep those to herself.”

 

“That hardly seems fair,” Mike observed.

 

“Well, if you can’t take a few liberties when your name is on the door, what’s the point, right? Anyway, what did you think she did up in her office all day?”  Reaching into the folder he’d kept from Mike’s grasp, Harvey pulls out two pictures of brightly colored cartoon monkeys, and shoves it toward his protégé. “Compare pictures of cartoon monkeys for fare trade hippy food farms?”

 

Mike snatches the folder, glancing over the summary, and then met his mentor’s eyes, smiling. “So the trademark infringement suit…”

 

“Has no merit,” Harvey finished. “Hand the summary off to Craig-“

 

“Kyle,” Donna’s voice helpfully supplies via the intercom.

 

“Whatever,” Harvey mutters, “and be back here by 12:45. Client’s coming at 1:00.”

 

Mike makes to stand, tossing the baseball to his boss, who catches it easily and lobs it back toward the blonde. Mike smirks and tosses it back.

 

“Underhand? Really?”

 

Mike strikes what he thinks is the stance of a professional pitcher, incurring further ridiculing from his boss, before catching sight of Louis’ presence in front of Donna’s desk, the shorter man gesturing animatedly toward the senior partner’s office.

 

“Busy,” he exclaims incredulously, “they’re playing catch!”

 

“Sorry Louis. Priorities,” the redhead deadpans, her eyes never leaving the computer screen. “Would you like to make an appointment? I can see if he has an opening next week.” With a purposeful growl, Louis’ lips form a scowl as he shuffles away.

 

“Yeah,” Mike nods approvingly. “I get it now.”

 

“Don’t worry Mike, one day you too will have a door you can play with. Walls too, if you work hard enough,” he adds. Mike snickers, taking Harvey’s dismissal for what it is and heads back to his cubicle, where he knows he’ll no doubt find extra work on his desk that wasn’t there when he left, courtesy of Louis, for being a part, unwittingly or not for the rude slight he received moments before.

 

“12:45 Mike,” Harvey called after him. “Not a minute later.”


	2. Seeing Is Believing

 

 "But I'm early." Mike stares into the empty office in disbelief.

 

"They showed up over an hour ago, puppy." It could be a trick of the light, but Mike could swear Donna winces as she breaks the news. "Look, if it makes you feel any better Harvey wasn’t pleased. But what are you going to do?" She comments absently.

 

From anyone else that would be a rhetorical question, but this is Donna, and as she’s tossing out that off handed comment, her eyes very deliberately settle on an object sitting on the ledge of her desk.

 

Mike eyes the apple juice warily. "And just what is it I'm expected to do?" he asks with a deep resigned sigh.

 

"You're babysitting!" She grins toothily - a shark-like smile, disturbingly reminiscent as one of Harvey’s. "One of the clients' brought his daughter."

 

“And that?” he nearly, but not quite whines.

 

“It’s a juice box, Mike,” Donna supplies brightly. “You take this little straw conveniently affixed to the back of the box and use it to puncture the foil-“

 

Mike snatches the box off her desk, interrupting her obvious display of sarcasm as it tears at his already wounded pride.

 

As if it’s not bad enough being denied a seat at the adult table, he’s quite literally been allocated a seat at the children's.

 

“Her name is Megan.” Donna continues. “She's in the waiting area,” she calls after him as he disappears down the hallway.

 

After a stop at his cubicle to grab his laptop and whatever mindless proofing Louis foisted on him as punishment for his perceived part in the early morning humiliation at Harvey and Donna’s hands, Mike heads back toward the waiting area where he sits himself next to a very board looking little girl in black loafers and blue sweater vest. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a quite severe looking ponytail.

 

On the table in front of her sits a can of soda. He looks down at the juice box in his hand and snorts. Fuckin’ Donna.

 

A cursory assessment of the schoolbooks strewn across the girl’s lap immediately piques his interest; most notably, a single sheaf of paper with the outline of a book report and messy little scribbling’s in the margins.

 

It only takes a brief flicker of his eyes across the page to recognize the wonderful words; a fictional language, Mike recalls fondly, as quickly, the novel materializes in his mind.

 

“Watership Down, huh? One of my favorites,” he remarks.

 

He gauges the child’s age at no more than eight or nine, which means, given the content of the book, the child must be extremely smart to comprehend the material. Or have overachieving parents.

 

“You must be Megan,” he continues. “I’m Mike.”

 

Megan doesn’t turn to acknowledge him, but answers regardless. “I forgot the book,” she sighs.

 

“Yeah? I misplace things, too,” He frowns suddenly, and begins patting down his pockets looking for his phone. It’s not there. "All the time," he adds as an afterthought.

 

She gestures almost accusingly at the front pocket of her book bag. “I know I put it in the bag. It was on my nightstand this morning and I made sure to put it right there,” she adds kicking the offending knapsack. “Dad’s going to be disappointed with me again,” she finishes sadly.

 

“I know the feeling,” Mike mutters to himself. “So, what are you up to?” Briefly he scans the girl’s notes again. “Chapter 2, page 23. You’ve just started,” he observes with a smile. “Awesome. You’re going to love it.”

 

“Yeah!” The girl smiles almost instantly.

 

The fact that the young man sitting next to her has pulled that information out of thin air is obviously lost on her, but the love of the story itself has her swept up in the excitement of having someone to share it with.

 

“I was supposed to start it today with my tutor, but I couldn’t wait and read chapter 1 before bed last night,” she almost whispers. “But this morning Professor Pierce came over and daddy said we had to come here instead,” she trails off.

 

“Is Professor Pierce your tutor?” He probes gently.

 

“No. He works with daddy.”

 

The way she says it, Mike can tell the little girl isn’t fond of the man. He punctures the juice box with little plastic straw and takes a sip. “Is your daddy a professor too?” He asks.

 

“He’s a scientist!” She exclaims exuberantly. “Daddy says if I study hard enough, I can be one too one day.”

 

“You can be anything you want,” Mike clarifies, as he flips open his laptop, figuring if nothing else he can start a bit of background research on their client for when Harvey returns.

 

Beginning with her last name and a few of the tidbits she’s offered up so far, Mike starts to type and before long finds himself peering at a website that sends shivers down his spine. Before the child can notice his discomfort, however, he lowers the screen and sets the laptop aside.

 

Mike steadies himself with a deep breath. “So - “Watership Down.” He clears his throat, trying to ignore the churning in his stomach. “Chapter 1, by Richard Adams.”

 

Megan’s eyes sparkle wildly as she settles herself on the couch, avidly watching him he proceeds to narrate the story.

 

"The primroses were over. Toward the edge of the wood, where the ground became open…”

 

A few chapters in, much to Mike’s amusement, the precocious brunette has decided, much like an audiobook, he has a pause button. A gentle tweak to his nose signals him to stop when she needs clarification on subject matter or the definition of a word that isn’t on her fictional “Lapine” rabbit language list.

 

Mike doesn’t complain even though he knows mostly she’s doing it just because he’s letting her, and given what he’s gleaned about her father and his colleague, the childlike behavior is comforting to him in a way he’s trying not to think about.

 

Their interactions have garnered a bit of attention, not that the duo notice. From associates to partners, passersby’s have begun to gather in small clusters, work forgotten for a moment as they stare at the scene – stare at Mike in particular as he becomes lost in the story.

 

Of course, Donna is among them.

 

It’s one thing to know, theoretically, Mike Ross has an amazing ability to access information, spout out pages of legalese in the time it takes most people to blink, but it’s quite another to see it in practice – and in such an endearing situation.

 

It’s embarrassing for Donna to admit, but watching him now, it’s as though she’s really seeing Mike for the first time; not as a walking legal handbook rambling loopholes, clauses and addendums ad nauseam, all whilst trying not to stumble over his own two feet, but reciting beautiful prose, words effortlessly falling from his lips, his face the picture of unadulterated joy.

 

If she were a more sentimental sort the scene before her might leave Donna slightly choked up- their puppy with his ill-fitting suits and perpetually messy hair, sharing his oh so brilliant mind and love of the written word with his giggling charge.

 

And if the fingertips pressed to her lips are hiding smile—or a handkerchief, well no one is going to tease Donna Paulson about it without facing some serious repercussions.

 

Deep voices carrying over from the elevator bank breaks the spell, sending the onlookers scurrying away in every direction, and drawing Donna’s attention to her returning boss. With no more than a subtle meeting of the eyes, Harvey is summoned to her side.

 

Outwardly, standing next her surveying the situation, Harvey is the definition of the stalwart professional, but Donna can see the concealed pride Harvey holds for their boy, along with something else she’d only recently begun to recognize; a feeling that goes much deeper, an emotion closely guarded within those dark secretive eyes.

 

The two exchange a smile, and it’s only then Donna’s revelation comes full circle. Not about Harvey’s feelings toward his associate, though that did take a few months to figure out, much to her chagrin - But no, even more jarring for her is realizing that- what a good portion of the residents of the 46th floor just saw in Mike, Harvey has seen from the moment they met.

 

“Is he…?” A stammered whisper drifting over Harvey’s shoulder tears their attention away from Mike, to a pair of kind eyes wide with disbelief. It’s one the two VIPS that barged into his office just past eleven that morning.

 

The man is in his early thirties. His hair looks styled, but haphazardly, as though it wasn’t a part of his usual daily regiment. His suit is brown and boring and though well kept, quite old. Harvey’s initial assessment of the man mirrored his appearance - not quite as entitled as most of their clients given his awkward appearance, genuine when he speaks, but definitely working with a hidden agenda.

 

“That’s Mike.” Harvey states as neutrally as he can manage, the unaffected closer façade slipping effortlessly back in place. “My associate.”

 

“James Michael Ross,” a second voice cuts in, monotone, like he’s reading off a roster. The older man’s age wrinkled face is pinched in a perpetual scowl. He’s obviously been around the block when it comes to negotiations and makes no time for pleasantries. His agenda isn’t clear either, but whatever it is, it obvious he’s got one and he's either not tactful enough to hide it, or really just doesn’t give a damn if anyone knows.

 

Harvey dislike of this man seems to increase the longer he’s exposed to him, mind screaming ‘threat’ from their first handshake. His familiarity with his associate is definitely a red flag for Harvey- or more pointedly has Harvey seeing red.

 

Briefly, he thinks to correct the man, using Mike’s middle name as his given name, but instinct tells him this is something he’s going to want to discuss with Mike in private.

 

The unsettling feeling he’s been having all morning is back with a vengeance.

 

“My daughter, Megan,” the younger man supplies gesturing toward the pair. “Looks like she’s forgotten her homework again. I swear, smart as a whip, that girl, but when she’s not studying she’s so preoccupied in her own head she forgets the basic things in life… like wearing shoes and opening doors before trying to walk through them.”

 

Harvey can barely repress his amusement that an accurate comparison can be made between Mike and a nine-year-old child. It’s at that moment there’s a light bump to his shoulder, and Donna is discretely slipping something into his hand.

 

“I know what you mean,” he responds dryly, silently thanking Donna, while slipping Mike’s smartphone into his suit jacket.

 

The puzzle pieces have been quickly sliding into place for Harvey, regarding these men and Jessica’s insistence on his involvement in their case, now that he’s seeing most, if not the full picture of why they are really here. The woman is ingenious in her deviousness.

 

“So, Professor Kendall,” Harvey addresses the less detestable of his two clients. “You can dispense with the pretense. I take it you already knew about Mike.” It’s not a question.

 

To his credit, the man doesn’t bother with denial but it could just be he’s too enthralled with the blonde to properly acknowledge being called out. “It’s amazing,” he responds breathily.

 

Harvey rolls his eyes with the sudden realization that while he’ll admittedly never grow tired of Mike’s brilliance he can’t imagine how difficult it is going to be to work on this case with two honest to God Neuroscientists in the same room with his associate. “Yes. He is.” Harvey stresses, suddenly seeing a lot of research on restraining order precedence in his future.

 

“Mike.” Harvey barks, suddenly feeling the need to get Mike as far away from these men as possible. “My office.”

 

Mike glances over and nods, but Harvey sees something aside from affirmation flicker in the boy’s eyes. But with a bright smile and a few words of encouragement to Megan, Mike is gathering up his things and brushing past everyone with a determined stride. Harvey waits until he disappears around a column, to face his new clients.

 

“Donna, please let Jessica know Professors’ Kendall and Pierce will be waiting conference room 2.” Before either one can protest; their desire to corner his associate palpable, Harvey delivers a calculating smile so cold it brokers no more discussion. “Mike and I will join you shortly.”

 

He waits until Donna easily sweeps the two gentlemen off in the opposite direction before heading toward his office where he finds Mike on the couch, fidgety and unable, or unwilling to meet his eyes.

 

“The clients demanded we meet alone,” Harvey sighs, pretty sure Mike showing up to an empty office earlier in the afternoon must have stung.

 

“ Drs. Peter Kendall and Ewan Pierce. They represent the IBRA, an international, privately funded research organization dedicated to open and shared communication with all scientific societies in an effort to bridge gaps in communications in research, resources, priorities and funding in all matters relating to the brain from development to diseases. Kendall represents the New York chapter of the IBRA, Dr. Pierce - the entire North Eastern division.”

 

“I know who they are, Harvey,” Mike snaps harshly. “The International Brain Research Alliance. What I want to know is what the hell they want?”

 

Harvey doesn’t know what to do with that. Mikes fury is coming out of nowhere, and completely out of character with the normally docile boy. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” He demands, taken aback by Mike’s outburst.

 

“I want to know what. They. Want?” Mike enunciates sharply.

 

“Mike,” Harvey begins, a warning deliberately drawn out, but in a voice deep enough to get his message through. “Get yourself together. We have a meeting now in Conference room 2. When it’s over-“

 

He holds up one finger warding off the oncoming argument and Mike closes his mouth. “When it’s over, you and I are going to have words. Understand?”

 

Mike is breathing heavily now, his chest rising and falling with barely suppressed anger. “Understand, Mike?” Harvey sharply repeats himself, tossing a file into the younger man’s lap. “They need help with their financials,” he states plainly. The fact that this would fall under Louis’ purview has been niggling at the back of Harvey’s mind since the early lunch, leaving an unsettling feeling in his gut, but he says nothing more as he sweeps out of the office.

 

Mike doesn’t answer, but gathers up his things, the file on top, and follows Harvey out.

 

 ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: “Watership Down” is a novel written by Richard Adams, and published in 1972. The quote "The primroses were over. Toward the edge of the wood, where the ground became open…” Is property of Richard Adams. Any mentions of the Lupine language, also property of Mr. Richard Adams. If you haven’t read the book, I highly recommend it. 
> 
> The IBRO (International Brain Research Organization) is an actual organization, founded in 1961, dedicated to the communication and collaboration of Neuroscientists to study and map the brain from development to disease. I don’t know anything about them, except for a brief read-through on Wiki and their website. Nothing in this story is meant to slander the real (legitimate) organization, as this story is a complete work of fiction.
> 
> I have no beta so all mistakes are mine. Apologies in advance – I am very out of practice and this is my first Suits fic. Feed me! Helpful critiques and comments welcome.
> 
> Also, no idea how many chapters we'll end up with but I'm randomly choosing 6 for now.


	3. Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has always thought Mike Ross was special. Unfortunately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight Spoiler For The Mid-Season 3 Finale - There Are Mentions Of Child Abuse In This Chapter.

Harvey stops just short of the conference room. Reaching out behind him he instinctively catches Mike by the bicep before the kid can barrel past, maneuvering him up against the wall.

“Listen, Mike.” His fingers squeeze gently into the tense muscle underneath his suit. Between the softness of his tone and tenderness of the touch, it’s the most intimate contact the two have ever shared and yet it’s not awkward. “I get you're upset.”

“Harvey-” Mike’s voice is raw; both from the turmoil he’s been unable to hide and unmistakable display of affection from his mentor he’s been craving for months.

“But I’ve got you.” Harvey assures him.

Mike closes his eyes and leans back against the wall. To Harvey, the blonde looks defeated, small, and oh so young.

“There are things you don’t know, Harvey.” Mike’s voice breaks.

“I figured.” The pressure of Harvey’s grip eases, but his fingers remain, gently stroking back and forth in a soothing motion. 

“But-“

“Trust me, Mike. I’ve got you. Alright?”

Mike stares hard into Harvey’s eyes apparently assured by what he sees there. He nods, drawing strength from the touch. “Yeah. Yeah, alright.”

 

***

As soon as Mike and Harvey enter the conference room, Kendall stands in an apparent attempt to shake hands, his eyes intensely focused on Mike, while Pierce on the other hand, just observes, seemingly unaffected.

Harvey greets the men with a curt nod, while Mike ignores them altogether, settling himself at the farthest end of the table. Harvey bites back a smile at the rebuff from his associate as Kendall awkwardly retakes his seat. 

“So Gentlemen,” Jessica begins smoothly, drawing attention from Mike’s odd behavior. “From the dossier I received I understand the International Brain Research Association has grown exponentially in the past few years, exceeding the founding members expectations from its inception nearly half a century ago.”

“That is correct, Ms. Pearson.” Pierce straightens in his chair. “Our fundamental principal was to create an accessible network of information to aid in research and support to the sole purpose of exploring, educating and disseminating information in all aspects furthering the study of the brain to like-minded individuals.”

“And from what I understand the organization has now gone global; independently run and empowered by it’s own governing body. That’s quite the accomplishment”

“Yes.” The stoic face presses up into something resembling a smile. “We are very proud to be a part of nurturing the advancement of the study of neuroscience worldwide. And with that, our main reason for seeking outside council,” he continues. 

“Investing and dispersing funds universally across 80 branches is becoming a source of dissention among some of the regional directors. Previously, the main governing branch would bestow stipends to each division and dictate, depending what strides had been made in a particular field, how much of those monies would be delegated to a particular project.

More recently, the newest governing body voted that each branch, should receive capital based off of accrued interest, and independently choses how their funds are spent and what programs they will fund. However, with the fluctuation of currency and instability of the economy from region to region, we felt it prudent our finances be handled by an independent entity to assure non-bias balance among the branches.”

“Well, I don’t see that being a problem,” Jessica spared a smile toward Louis. “Louis Litt is one the best numbers men in the industry.”

“And after taking a look at your portfolio,” Louis steps in. “I’ve put together some investment projections and suggestions based off your numbers that I think you will be very happy with.”

Before Louis can slide the clients’ copy of his report across the table, Harvey interrupts, his own file open on the desk in front of him. “However, before we make this official, I see here you’ve had quite a bit of legal trouble over the years– activists, former volunteers, even piers in your own field claiming everything from animal cruelty to malpractice.”

At that Mike’s head snaps up. After the momentary shock wears off, he realizes he should have known Harvey would have done his own homework before setting foot into a meeting. He probably spent the long lunch texting his PI or Donna getting any dirt the organization couldn’t sweep up. After fifty plus years, there must have been a lot. 

“Harvey,” Louis smiles tightly, attempting to maintain a cool demeanor in front of the clients. “Is this really the time for that? Professors Pierce and Kendall are here for financial advice.”

“And that’s what investment bankers are for, Louis.” The statement is targeted at the two visitors and hangs heavy in the air. “And if we are going to associate the Pearson Specter name with the IBRA, I believe this is something that needs to be addressed sooner rather than later, don’t you? Some of these claims,” Harvey gestures toward his folder, “Are pretty serious.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re lawyers, Harvey.” The two partners share insincere smiles.

“Mr. Specter has every right to exercise caution, Mr. Litt. There have been some…” Pierce pauses, his eyes skittering over to Mike as the younger man bows his head. “…Isolated instances over the years that have brought us unwarranted and unwanted attention of both the press and the government.”

Kendall reluctantly tears his eyes from the mop of blonde hair across the table realizing he’s going to have to reign the conversation back in if he wants any chance to initiate a relationship with the boy he’s been studying on paper for the past few years. 

“Ah, yes Ms. Pearson. Professor Price is correct. There were some rogue elements in the 80’s that put our organization in a bad light.”

Mike’s eyes glaze, as he visibly shrinks in his chair.

“But you must understand our organization is thousands strong. While we do our best to vet the people we collaborate with, most of our members work independently. Research would have to be groundbreaking to come to the attention Executive committee.”

“The more severe of the allegations made were dealt with internally, though most were unfounded.” Price picks up again. “We still get the occasion animal rights activists waving signs and demanding we free the lab specimens, trying to initiate local government involvement. But in reality, Its no different than most cosmetics companies; except in our case the government tries to step in with nonsensical threats to reassess the structure of our organization. Being that we are an international and internally governed entity, there’s so much red tape to get through it’s just a waste of time for everyone. It’s more of a pain in the ass than anything else. And billable,” he smiles at Louis, “should those occasions arise.”

“Are there specific mandates you take exception with or is it just regulations in general…” Mike blurts out.

“Mike-“ Harvey warns. There’s a time and place for everything and without more information he can’t let Mike fly off the handle now before he can contain the situation.

But Kendall speaks quickly, his voice smooth and calming. “Mr. Ross, your hesitation regarding our research methods is understandable-“

“Research!” Mike laughs almost manically. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Mr. Ross!” Jessica chastises harshly. “If you can’t reign yourself in, you will be asked to leave this room immediately.”

“No Ms. Person, please.” Kendall pleads. “That won’t be necessary. I asked for this firm, for Mr. Specter’s representation myself, specifically for the opportunity to meet and get to know his associate.”

By the look on her face, Kendall’s admission seems to come as a surprise to Jessica, as she too is now realizing the financials was just an angle to get a foot in the door. Something more was going on here. And more, it was personal.

Gracefully, she nods redirecting back to the topic at hand. “Louis is right. We initially granted this meeting to discuss your financials. Given the severity—“ she pauses, assessing Harvey and his associate and with a keen eye, “and sensitivity of the subject matter, I suggest we table further discussion all fronts for now—at least until we have a chance to look into these matters in depth. It’s just a formality, gentlemen,” she smiles. “We aren’t one the top tier law firms in New York for nothing after all.”

Both clients look put out, Dr. Pierce more so than Kendall, but both seem to see reason. 

“Mr. Ross,” Kendall exhales deeply, as though he’s been holding this in his entire life. “I just want to say…” he falters, then starts again. “I feel a formal apology is long overdue.”

Harvey stiffens and even Jessica is on alert, both now hovering between ejecting Mike from the meeting – Harvey to protect his boy, who is visibly close to snapping or breaking down, and Jessica for much the same reason as she can see the tight fisted grip Mike has on the papers in front of him.

“An apology.” Mike scoffs.

“What happened to you was not officially sanctioned by our organization, Mr. Ross.”

“Officially,” Mike latches on, so on edge he’s barely able to form full sentences. 

“We had consent—“ and Harvey, able to read people cannot believe that Pierce is going to complete that thought, much less acknowledge the implications, in a room full of lawyers, that something was done to Mike they needed consent for. “ The research done was important, and your father saw that, and even signed a waiver.”

“I want copies of all records, transcripts and tests pertaining to Mike.” Harvey says without missing a beat, “…including a copy of the signed waiver.” His voice is stern now, in full-blown lawyer mode.

“Those records are confidential—“ Pierce, sneers.

Kendall interrupts, as the meeting starts to spiral out of hand. He pauses, his eyes sympathetic as he turns to Mike. “Mr. Ross, I don’t know what looking over those files would help, what’s past is past –“

“Not for me,” Mike hisses. “I remember.”

Shaking his head, whether in denial or attempting to explain, Professor Pierce cut in. “Dr. Ellis was one rogue element. Once the organization found out what he was doing he was dealt with“

“No, “ Mike breathed heavily. “He wasn’t.” Mike turns his laptop to prove his point, a smiling headshot of Dr. Emile Ellis proudly displayed on the IBRA website. 

“He’s been on restricted, limited laboratory work only, and all work is supervised. He has no more independent backing. His only funding comes directly from the New York branch of the IBRA and is closely monitored.”

“So now he tortures rats and puppies instead of people?”

“He’s a scientist, Mr. Ross.”

“I was a child, Dr. Pierce.” 

 

“James – Mike,” Kendall corrects himself quickly, but not before Louis begins to connect the dots. First there is confusion, then dawning realization and he begins to feel embarrassed for his behavior after his transgression in the Harvard file room. 

“Please understand you are unique.” Kendall is practically begging now, his scientific mind overruling the sympathetic. “You have no idea how rare. As far back as Hippocrates, science has been trying to figure out how the mind works – and prove an eidetic…”

“Eidetic memory doesn’t exist, Professor Kendall.” Mike cuts in. “You of all people should know that.”

“But that’s exactly it, Mr. Ross. There has never been a legitimately proven case of a person with perfect recall, photographic, eidetic or otherwise. But you, Mike – you said it yourself. You were a child; reciting Shakespeare and doing complicated arithmetic. Passing every achievement test put in front of you in the 99th percentile. Not just eidetic, but honest to God genius. Your IQ, Mr. Ross, it’s astounding, and your last recorded score was taken just before you left grammar school. I can’t even fathom –“ 

“Please, Peter,” Dr. Pierce, chastises. “Scientifically speaking, the chances of Mr. Ross still possessing those abilities, his intelligence not withstanding, are astronomically small.”

“You saw him in the waiting area with Megan!” Kendall insists. “He was recalling scores of pages of text, word for word from memory!”

“An actor can memorize lines,” Pierce counters, turning a disturbing smile to Mike. “Would you care to give us a demonstration?”

Mike’s emotions are spinning out of control; remembered fear, pain, humiliation, exhaustion and anger are warring to tear him apart from the inside out. “I won’t perform for you like some trained monkey.”

Under the table, Harvey’s hand is a firm comforting presence on his knee. While across the table Jessica looks to be on the verge of making the rash decision to cut ties with the IBRA altogether and throw both Kendall and Pierce out on their asses, their millions of potential annual revenue be damned, but surprisingly, it’s Louis that steps in. 

“Ross didn’t seek you out, Professor. He has nothing to prove to you. But Ross,” Louis addresses Mike in his usual ‘you’re an associate, I own you,’ tone. “Speaking of monkeys; don’t think it didn’t get back to me that you passed that trademark infringement case onto Durant this this morning.”

Mike is taken aback by the sudden change in topic. He knows that Louis is well aware that case was done hours ago, signed, sealed, delivered and sitting on his desk. Then it hits him. This is one of those rare moments Louis shows his human side – ass backwards as it is. He still looks sick, but is able to grant Louis a grateful nod at the obvious farce to get him out of the room while maintaining both his dignity and the firm’s professionalism.

“Yes, of course. I’m on it, Louis.” Mikes voice is rough and distant. He gathers his belongings and makes his way to the door, but Kendall reaches out taking hold of his wrist.

“Mike, I’d like the chance to speak with you. I can’t promise the organization won’t attempt to contact you-“

“Yes,” Harvey’s voice cuts sharply through the air. “You can. If not, an order of protection will be issued against you. And once I have the entire story,” he adds, “charges may follow.”

“Harvey,” Jessica cautioned.

“Jessica, if nothing else, I’m taking this Ellis down.” 

“Ellis was one man.” Kendall jumped defensively. “I don’t agree,” he added quickly. “What he did to you, Michael, it was wrong. Barbaric. But he was blinded by the scientific implications of your case and what it could mean to the future of our field. He wasn’t thinking of you as…”

“A person.” Mike supplied, yanking his wrist free. “I was a subject. Just a test subject.” Mike shook off the doctor’s hand finally making his escape. 

Back in the room, Louis slid the financials across the table to Jessica. “It’s all there. It’s your call,” following the path Mike left second before.

*********

Pierce stood, smoothing down his tie and picking his briefcase up from the floor beside his chair. “I’m confident you will be in touch.” He directed his statement toward Jessica. She was thankful for small favors when the man exited the room without attempting so much as handshake.

Dr. Kendall was next to take his leave, however he laid his briefcase out on the table and pulled out stacks of documents and a few manila envelopes.

“It wasn’t sanctioned, Mr. Specter, and therefore doesn’t fall under the IBRA’s umbrella of confidentiality.” He slid the items over to Harvey.

“This is everything?”

“Yes and no. When I took over Ellis’ position as director of the New York branch, I also inherited his files. I have known about Mr. Ross, and have been looking for him for years. He was listed as James Michael Ross. Even his social security number is different. The research collected on him was vague to begin with, but I’ve made sure to remove any distinguishing information from my own copies should they ever come into possession of my successor. Pierce is the only one that knows any specifics, but I’m sure you will find more than enough in these files, including correspondence between him and Ellis proving he was aware of what was going on, though he plead ignorance to our committee.”

“So you are going to leave Mike alone.” 

“I’d still like a chance to get to know him.” Harvey’s eyes are so hard, Kendall has to look away. “But I’ll understand if he doesn’t want to meet with me. What I can promise you, as long as I have anything to do with the organization, nothing like that will happen in my region ever again. But tell him, my ranking has given me the ability to propose and institute precautionary guidelines and background checks for all IBRA facilities across the board. If you take them on as clients, you can write in a clause that will keep those guidelines in effect as long as your contract with them remains active.”

“What exactly—“ Harvey swallowed hard unable to speak, but managed to gently touch the stack of briefs.

“It’s better if you ask him yourself.”

There was a tense moment of silence before anyone realized Mike had come back into the room. From the way he was staring at the items on the table he’d heard the entire conversation.

“It started when I was four. Nurse Mendez – Bella,” a weak, almost fond smile flickers across Mike’s face, “badge number 0076459. She had two children; Lucas was twelve and Gibson was eight. Gib had leukemia.” He takes a shuddering breath. “She would come to the blue room after -- the one with the nursery trim wallpaper and ECT machines. Electroshock therapy tests and questions. Lots of questions.” 

He’s trying to hold it together, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to make it. Still, Harvey knows not to interrupt, if Mike is going to be able to do this, and he’s pretty sure he has to, it’s going to have to happen in his own time. 

For her part, Jessica looks too horrified with the revelation to move and is stunned into silence while Mike continues. 

“After… she’d take out the mouth guard and check me to see if I had bitten through it.” He pauses. “Then clean me up, give me fresh clothes,” he adds quietly, and Harvey can’t control the wince at that. “She’d give me muscle relaxers before the sessions and light tranquilizers after. When it was over—“ and there is a slight hitch in his chest. “When they were done, she’d wrap me in warm blankets and tell me stories about her kids, hold me until the tremors dissipated and my dad came to get me.”

Mike’s eyes are drawn to the files and folders once again. “I don’t know how much my father knew about what went on after he’d leave. I remember that some time later, after we’d stop going for our weekly sessions, Grams and my mother were angry with my father. No one called me James anymore, and things were tense between my father and I but I never truly understood it until I was much older.” He trails off.

“It wasn’t my intention to bring all this up again, Michael.” Kendall says sincerely. “I really- I just needed to say I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t change what he did to me.” It’s painfully obvious a part of Mike is somewhere else—somewhere in his own mind where he is scared and alone.

“Jessica,” Harvey announces packing everything away, and pressing a hand to Mike’s lower back beginning to steer him out of the room. “We’ll be in my office for a half hour so Donna can clear my schedule. Don’t expect us back until Monday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The IBRO (International Brain Research Organization) is an actual organization, founded in 1961, dedicated to the communication and collaboration of Neuroscientists to study and map the brain. I don’t know anything about them, except for a brief read-through on Wiki and their website. Nothing in this story is meant to slander the real (legitimate) organization, as this story is a complete work of fiction.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight mention of possible domestic violence (OC), mention of depression, mental disorders and electroshock therapy. Semi-graphic M/M.

The ride to the condo was made in silence, Harvey typing furiously on his phone, his mouth drawn in a tight line, while next to him Mike gazed out the window at nothing in particular. 

“Make yourself at home,” Harvey offers once inside the door.

Mike makes straight for the sofa, slipping off his jacket and tie on the way. Unbuttoning his shirtsleeves, he roughly rubs his fingers through his hair before sinking down into the leather, closing his eyes the second his head makes contact with the pillows.

 

Harvey begins shedding his suit and disappears into his bedroom, emerging a few minutes later in a dark brown cashmere shirt, and beige linen lounge pants. “So, are we going to talk about this?”

 

Mike cracks an eye. “This ‘us’ this,” he ventures, no longer wanting to deny what’s been building between them for the past few months, especially given the last few hours. “Or the ‘Ellis’ this?’ he adds for clarification.

 

“Don’t be an idiot.” Harvey saunters over from the wet bar seating himself next to his associate, who seamlessly rolls toward the added weight until his head rests against his boss’ shoulder. 

 

“This ‘us’—“ Harvey looks to the side into a pair of very blue, very tired looking eyes and leans down, placing a gentle kiss on Mike’s lips. “Doesn’t need to be talked about, does it?”

 

Mike sways a bit, and dreamily shakes his head. He gratefully takes the proffered glass of whisky from Harvey’s hand, amazed at how natural the strong arm wrapping around his shoulders feels. 

 

“Wanna’ go to bed and not talk some more?” Mike suggests coyly.

 

Harvey scrutinizes Mike with a careful eye. “You’re deflecting.”

 

Mike sets the glass down on the table and meets the cautious stare. “And you’re treating me like glass.” 

 

With both arms outstretched, Mike drapes his arms around Harvey’s neck and presses his lips firmly against the older mans – nipping and suckling until Harvey relents, tilting his head to the side and pushing his tongue passed those playful pink lips, deepening the kiss.

 

Harvey’s arms drop to Mike’s waist eliciting a sigh from the younger man, the lean body relaxing into his embrace as they continue to explore each other. By the time they break apart they are both equally affected by the intimacy, eyes heavy lidded, chests heaving.

 

“Mike,” Harvey pants, “are you sure?”

 

“Sure about the ‘us’ thing, or the ‘Ellis’ thing, because, Harvey, the Ellis thing happened a very long time ago. The ‘us’ thing-- is long overdue.” 

 

Harvey stands, a pleased smirk on his face and offers Mike his hand tugging him off the sofa. “You make a good argument.”

 

“You taught me well.”

 

Harvey’s eye is drawn to the discarded suit jacket with distain. “What?” 

 

Harvey retrieves the jacket and pulls Mike along behind him. “If you are going to wear cheap ass suits, you’re going to at least learn to treat them better so they don’t look like cheap ass suits with wrinkles.”

 

“Really? Now.” Mike baulks. “Shouldn’t we be removing our clothes, not taking them with us?”

 

Pushed into the bedroom and in front of the closet, Harvey reaches around the younger man and retrieves a hanger, placing it on a hook on the back of the door. “You have so much to learn Padawan. It’s always about the clothes. Lesson one: ” He leans in close, breathing hotly against the nape of Mike’s neck. “Taking them off.” Behind him now, Harvey steers the two of them until they are standing in front of a floor length mirror. 

 

Harvey draws each of Mike’s arms up inspecting the exposed skin under the loosened shirtsleeves. “If you were a grown-up, you would start by removing your cufflinks, then unbutton your shirtsleeves.” Mike smirks, as kisses are gently placed on each of the pulse point of his wrists.

 

Reaching over the tops of the blonde’s shoulders from behind Harvey turns to the buttons. Mike drops his shoulders allowing the fabric to drop into Harvey’s hands, which is then tossed carelessly onto the floor.

 

“I thought you were teaching me a lesson, here.”

 

Harvey glances at the polyester shirt. “Yes. That scratchy piece of shit isn’t worth a hanger.”

 

Before Mike can come up with an argument his tee shirt is being pulled over his head. He watches with rapt attention as Harvey peels off his own shirt and lays it with care across a bedside armchair. Bare chest to back now, they stare at each other in the mirror; Mike’s pale flesh stark against the natural olive of Harvey’s broad chest.

 

Harvey can’t help but note how Mike’s slim frame makes him look even more fragile than he knows the boy really is, the last few hours a testament to his inner strength. Giving into long restrained temptation, Harvey lifts his hands and begins a light caress down those lean arms, then across the sparsely haired chest, brushing teasingly across pert pink nipples.

 

Mike trembles and Harvey smiles. “You like that?” he hums.

 

Mike spins in his arms, his fingers unknotting the drawstring pants. “I like a lot of things, including learning. You’re a very good teacher.” Mike captures Harvey’s lips, just as his fingers wrap around Harvey’s rigid cock. “This lesson, though, is taking way too long.” 

 

Things progress quickly from there, as Mike’s pants join Harvey’s on the floor – arguments of the treatment of his clothing forgotten as Harvey’s large hands find Mike’s firm ass and they tumble to the bed.

 

Flat on his back, Mike cups Harvey’s head as the older man takes a nipple into his mouth laving it with his tongue, his hands wrapped around Mike’s ribcage, fingers staggered into the hollow beneath each rib.

 

“Harvey,” Mike groans as Harvey’s moves lower. 

 

“Mmmm?” 

 

“You’re not just doing this because you feel bad for me….”

 

“Yes Mike,” Harvey huffs, as he nuzzles and inhales the warm bed of pubic hair at the base of Mike’s shaft. “I am about to suck your dick because I feel bad for you.” He punctuates his statement by taking the entire length into his mouth and slowly dragging his lips and tongue back up again until the tip slips out with a slick pop. “And while I’m doing that, think about what sob story I have to tell you about my childhood to get you to let me fuck you next and let me know when I’m done.”

 

Mike tangles his fingers in Harvey’s hair, smiling into the dark amused face. “Right. Stupid. Got it.”

 

“Good.” Harvey retakes Mike into his mouth and begins to go down on him in earnest.

 

“Very good,” Mike moans and collapses back into the ludicrously luxurious bedding.

 

******

 

It’s barely three in the morning when Harvey finds Mike in the living room, clad only in his boxer briefs. He’s sitting cross-legged on the sofa, with Kendall’s records splayed open on his lap and the glass of scotch discarded from earlier that evening in his hand. 

 

Sensing Harvey’s presence, Mike exhales slowly. “I remember most of it. Apparently, the point of the electroshock was to help me forget.” He hands Harvey some of Ellis’ handwritten notes as he takes a seat next to him.

 

According to the records, Ellis cites a study done in 1937 by an Italian Professor of neuropsychiatry that was inspired, after seeing the practice of ECT successfully used to put pigs in an anesthetized state before being taken to slaughter, to try a modified method of shock therapy on human test subjects.

 

The hand not tangled in the overgrown hair at the base of Mikes neck swipes shakily across Harvey’s face as he reads the messy scrawl. 

 

The trials proved to successfully induce a form of retrograde amnesia after a few dozen sessions leaving the subject with a more positive view of the experience. It was this very study that catapulted ECT therapy into the forefront of treating mental disorders such as schizophrenia and later, chronic depression.

 

There is a long moment of silence once he’s set the pages down; one Harvey is familiar with after working with his genius for so long. As Mike is rolling thoughts over in his mind he takes the pensive boy in his arms to avoid throwing any of his expensive lead crystal across the room. 

 

It does nothing to alleviate Harvey’s anger when all Mike can come up with is “I have nightmares sometimes. They aren’t fully fleshed out memories. It’s more like I feel like I’m suffocating and I can’t move. I try to call out for help. And there are people there; but they don’t… they just watch.” 

 

Harvey tightens his embrace and once again claims his boy with a gentle kiss, this time, just a brush of lips pressing to the top of his head. Feeling helpless is not something Harvey is familiar with much less knows how to deal with. 

 

He lifts one of the sheaves off Mike’s lap, horrified by the date range that’s caught his eye. “Mike, this is a sleep depravation study.”

 

Mike lets go a long shuddering breath and begins to speak quietly.

 

“My mom used to read to me all the time.” He smiles. “We didn’t have a lot of money. She worked two jobs, but always managed to make it home to read me a bedtime story.”

 

“Mike,” Harvey’s voice is softer now, pleading, but nothing seems to penetrate the younger man’s haze. 

“My dad was an assistant professor looking to elevate to associate. It’s a highly competitive position, so time off was rare.” Mike goes quiet again, and starts fidgeting with a throw pillow. 

“So one day my mom gets sick.” At Harvey’s horrified expression, Mike clarifies. “No, no, nothing like that, the flu or something, but she couldn’t get out of bed and my dad had to go to work. Grammy hadn’t retired yet, so my father sits me down on their bed next to my mom and tells me to be good and let her rest. I don’t know how long we were sitting in bed when my mom starts drifting off. I jostled her awake trying to get to the nightstand. When I picked up the book she probably figured I wanted my bedtime story. But I began to read to her.

 

So I stumble a bit but by the time I get to page two, I glance over at my mom to see if she’d fallen asleep yet but she’s staring at me. Gaping, actually.” Mike smiles at the memory. “I thought something was wrong, but she started pointing out different words at random – I think she was trying to see if I was really reading or had just heard the story so many times I’d had it memorized. Turns out both were the case.”

 

“She grabbed a novel off her dresser and picked a paragraph. I read that to her too. It went on like that for the rest of the afternoon. By the time my father got home I could read and recite bible psalms, paragraphs from paperback novels we’d had around the house, newspaper articles and all the TV guide listings for the week. My father was floored--I was excited when he first started bringing me to the university to show me off.” 

 

Mike shook his head wishing there were a way to separate some of the happiest memories he spent with his father with the fact that it led to some of the most traumatic moments of his young life. “That’s where we met Ellis.”

 

“You blew your cover.” Harvey tsks. “Never give away your secret identity, kid. That’s first rule of having a super power.”

 

Mike tried to smile but was feeling raw and exposed. “He said I was special.”

 

“That’s because you are,” Harvey answered. At that, Mike did smile. “But you said your father picked you up after weekly sessions. This study,” Harvey glances back down at Ellis’ notes, “indicates ongoing testing. More than a week.”

 

Mike nods, his eyes drifting over the paperwork on the table. “I was seven. A few weeks before school ended for the year, our sessions stopped abruptly. My father said Ellis had gone away on business -- I was so relieved I told my father I didn’t want to see him again.” 

 

Mike picks up another stack of documents and hands them to Harvey. They are official IBRA correspondences. 

 

“It looks like he went to the IBRA’s Executive Committee for funding…”

 

Harvey is absorbing the words in front of him while his thumb is continuously stroking soothing circles across the back of Mike’s neck. “A study grant.”

 

“The Executive Committee only meets a few times a year for official business. Ellis pitched it as a two week summer camp for gifted children… Fuck!” Mike rubs angrily at his eyes. “It was horrible.” He rasps. “I was given stimulants, sedatives; God only knows what.” He gestures to the documents. “I’m sure it’s in there somewhere.”

 

Mike sits silently waiting for Harvey to reach the same paragraph he’d just read and the imminent explosion to follow. “Approved by US Interim Grant Coordinator Dr. Ewan Pierce. He was Ellis’ direct supervisor-- Son of a bitch!” 

 

Harvey slaps the file down on the hard glass coffee table and envelops Mike in a full out bear hug unable to stop thinking about Pierce’s face that afternoon. Having had a hand in what Mike had been put through.

 

“Harvey,” Mike sighs, allowing the crushing embrace, the emotional exhaustion taking its toll. “It happened. It’s over and done with.”

 

“No. It’s not, Mike. Not by a long shot.” 

 

Mike huffs in amusement. “No, it’s not. I know you’re not letting it go. That’s not— I just mean I’m not damaged from it or anything.”

 

“Jesus Mike. How can you be so calm about this? That smug fuck sat across the table from you today knowing… Fuck!”

 

Mike pulls back and presses his palms to Harvey’s face, his eyes pleading. “Because all this isn’t new to me. Well Pierce is a… surprise.” Mike pulls a folder out of the pile. “But this is what I can’t understand.”

 

It’s a photocopy of a vaguely worded, notarized document giving parental consent for Mike to be left in Ellis’ care to attend the camp; James Michael Ross’ signature emblazoned on the dotted line. Its not so much the signed consent, as Mike had known it existed – it’s that there’s an addendum - a consideration clause that James be given a written recommendation from Ellis for Associate Professor along with an undisclosed amount of money to be paid to the Ross’ upon successful completion of the two-week trial.

 

“He knew I hated Ellis, Harvey. He knew that much. He may not have fully realized what was going to happen to me,” Mike begins; the anger and resentment at his father deeply repressed after his parents deaths, once again boiling to the surface of his mind. “But he was smart enough to ask for consideration? It explains so much about how my mom and Grams treated him after. He handed me over to that man knowing how much I hated him, just for money and advancement.”

 

“He didn’t know, Mike.”

 

“Not at the time… But he did find out.”

 

“What?”

 

Mike sighs, dropping across to the other side of the sofa, stretched out, both arms crossed over his face. “My parents dropped me off at the ‘camp’ and left for a belated honeymoon, courtesy of an advancement from Ellis.” His voice is muffled.

 

“They’d never gotten to go anywhere – never had enough money. But the advance from Ellis for my participation in the study was his gift. They weren’t supposed to get a penny until I completed the fourteen-day stay.” Mike’s voice is shaky. 

 

“But my eighth day there my father shows up. There was a lot of yelling. Ellis just kept going on about breaking the contract and giving the money back, and wanting to know how he found out. My father- well, lets just say Ellis is lucky all he received was a broken jaw… according to Grammy.”

 

“Someone tipped him off.” Harvey concluded. 

 

“Kendall?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Harvey began going over the documents again to see if he could spot a pattern.

 

“There are transcripts.” Mike hesitates. If what He’s learned until this point has been any indicator of Harvey’s current sate of mind, this next bit of news is going to push him over the edge.

 

Mike reaches into the pile of papers coming up with exactly what he was looking for without having to dig, and passes it over. 

 

“He was tracking my academic progress from the time I entered grammar school until my parents accident. I wouldn’t be surprised if those achievement and IQ tests I was constantly forced to take weren’t somehow orchestrated by him.”

 

Harvey is absorbing what he’s looking at when finally gets to the nail in Ellis’ coffin. “These are petitions for Foster Adoption filed by an Eliza Lennon.”

 

Mike nods. “Eliza Lennon-Ellis.”

 

Harvey’s lips thin in anger, his fist crumbling the edges of the paper. “But it didn’t go through.”

 

At that Mike smiles. “Grammy had to get a job and prove she could create a stable living for us before she could legally take custody of me after-.” Mike’s voice cracks. When he picked up again, his voice was raw. “Until then I was a ward of the state. Ellis told the social worker that he was a colleague of my father and wanted to be sure, knowing how gifted I was my parents would want me to have access to every opportunity to excel. They agreed, but Grammy knew about Ellis and wasn’t going to let that happen.”

 

“But how did she block them from taking custody of you without proof?” Harvey couldn’t imagine the foster care system keeping a child in care when an acclaimed Professor was taking an interest in a boy in Mike’s situation.

 

Once again Mike thumbs through the documents pulling out what appear to be multiple police reports dated within a week of Mrs. Ellis’ application to become Mike’s custodian, which he hands over to Harvey. 

 

“Reports of possible domestic violence calls, disturbing the peace, vandalism.... How did she manage this?”

 

“Do you really want to know or maintain plausible deniability?”

 

“If that doesn’t scream Trevor I don’t know what does.”

 

Mike smiles. “I told you, Harvey. Our relationship may be dysfunctional, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t there for me. Grammy may have alluded to tipping him off when she found out Ellis was trying to get his hands on me, but the rest was all Trevor. He knew what happened to me all those years ago, probably more than most.” The ‘I had no one else to talk about it with’ left unsaid. 

 

“From there he began a campaign to make Ellis’ home life look unstable and unsafe. It started with paying a girl show up at his door when Ellis wasn’t home, explaining to his wife she’d been there for private tutoring one afternoon and left something behind. All she had to do was get into the house, then be seen slipping a pair of panties that she’d brought with her out from between the couch cushions and stuff them into their purse.”

 

“Devious.” Harvey nodded. 

 

“From there it was easy. Trevor just had to wait for the Professor to come home and for the fighting to start then call 911 from a payphone down the street from their house pretending to be a concerned neighbor. There may have been some choice words of graffiti left on their garage, too. Anyway, a few weeks later their request was denied.”

 

“Pretty advanced stuff for an eleven year old,” Harvey comments, an obvious stab at Trevor’s character.

 

Mike looks chagrined. “I may have been advanced a class or two.”

 

“And Trevor repeated a class or two?”

 

“Yes. He was fifteen- his friends had moved on and his parents ignored him. He looked after me, Harvey. He cried for weeks when the state took me. We applied to Princeton together, but he got in on his own.”

 

Harvey conceded with a nod. While he’d never approve of Trevor’s influence on Mike, and blame him for the direction Mike’s life had taken, he begrudgingly found himself grateful he was there for Mike when no one else was. “And James…” Harvey finally asked.

 

“Grammy and my mother always called me Michael anyway. Only my father ever called me James. When the state came for me, Grams told the social worker my social security card was missing along with my birth certificate. She had them reissue me new one, and when Grammy filled out the documents she filed it under Michael Ross. It was the 80’s and records weren’t as well kept as they are now I guess. Besides, who was going to question the word of a sweet old lady just trying to take care of her orphaned grandchild?”

 

They both share a laugh at that. Edith Ross had been notoriously sharp and unconventional when she wanted to be.

 

“So I became Michael James Ross. Not some huge disappearing act, but since I was an orphan, had no official home address at the time, and was just leaving grammar school it was enough to confuse the paper trail on me enough to shake Ellis. Besides,” Mike choked. “After the accident – I don’t think Grammy could stand calling me James and not think of him, anyway.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Mike. You’ve had a really shitty time of it.”

 

“I don’t know,” Mike pulls the paperwork out of Harvey’s hand and drops them on the table. “Things have been looking up lately. So, what next?”

 

“First,” Harvey pulls the lithe body into his lap and palms the firm ass under his palms. “We go back to bed. Tomorrow, we schedule a meet with Kendall.”


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 

Mike awoke clutching a fluffy pillow to his chest, his bare ass warming in the morning sun streaming through the floor to ceiling windows of Harvey's bedroom.

 

“Harvey?” He calls out quietly, still shaking the sleep from his voice.

 

He can barely move, but not from pain or exhaustion, but from loose-limbed nirvana that Harvey showered on his body the night before.

 

He can hear movement from the living room, the sounds of someone pacing, and the timber of Harvey’s familiar voice growling, in a muted but firm whisper.

 

“No. We’re still moving forward, just remember that I’m calling the shots.”

 

Mike ambles out of the bedroom and into his mentor’s line of sight. Harvey smiles, motioning with an index finger. Mike nods and makes his way to the kitchen to appease his caffeine addiction while Harvey finishes up his call. 

 

Once the blonde is out of earshot, Harvey turns toward the balcony, lowering his voice further. "And if I find you’ve left anything else out I will make it my mission to destroy you. I’ll expect a messenger within the hour." He hangs up then shoots off a quick text message. 

 

A moment later, Mike feels strong arms swathed in ridiculously soft cashmere wrap around his middle as he's reaching toward the upper cabinets for a coffee mug.

 

Large hands, starting just under his armpits sweep down his sides, mapping his ribcage before coming to rest securely on the sharp plains of his hipbones. “Good morning.”

 

“Is it?” Mike asks referring to the call. “Who’s got you all riled up this early?”

 

His pelvis is tugged back sharply and Harvey grinds himself against Mike’s cotton covered bottom. "I think that’s fairly obvious," Harvey deflects, nuzzling Mike’s neck. Playfully he bites into a slender shoulder leaving faint teeth-marks, pulling back to admire his handy-work.

 

"And here I was thinking people only wanted me for my mind."  

 

Mikes breath is nearly knocked from his lungs as he's shoved against the counter, Harvey's broad hand solidly pressed to his spine, holding him prone against the granite. 

 

"I know what your mind is capable of, Mike." Harvey's breath tickles across Mikes skin as his lips drag slowly down to his tailbone. "Now I want to see what I can get you to accomplish with your body." 

 

“The Kama Sutra is a book, you know... Oh-" Mike gasps, his thoughts derailed as Harvey sinks to his knees taking Mike's undershorts with him. 

 

With a Cheshire grin, Harvey holds the globes of Mike’s pert ass cheeks in a possessively bruising grip and delivers a sharp love bite to the pale flesh before pressing his lips to the tender mark. "Okay, genius, what page is this on?" He asks wickedly, placing an open mouth kiss against Mike’s sensitive center.

 

"Harvey!" Mike squeaks, angling his head to peer over his shoulder. "Jesus!" 

 

Harvey’s laugh vibrates through Mike’s body as the older man laps at his crack, his own cock stiff as a rail, protruding obscenely against the front of his sleep pants. Pressing his face into the fleshy muscle, Harvey grips Mike with his left hand, fingers spreading Mike open, exposing the shiny pink pucker to the air.

 

"Oh God Damn," Harvey swears at the sight, his breath blowing against the moist heat of Mike's hole as it twitches against the onslaught of his tongue.

 

He hasn’t done this in ages and doing it to Mike – with Mike is almost more than he can stand. Roughly, he jams his own hand down the front of his pants and begins frantically stroking himself in time with his tongue.

 

Mike reaches toward the kitchen backsplash, his body stretching out as he begins fucking himself back onto Harvey's blunt tongue. "Harvey, please..." Mike begs.

 

“Please what?” Harvey licks the words into Mike’s hole. There’s no humor in his tone. He presses his face deeper, nipping at Mike’s entrance, utterly engrossed in his task.

 

“Any-anything. I- I can’t think when you do that.” He whimpers. 

 

Mike reaches down trying to grab at his swollen cock, but Harvey’s faster, quickly pulling his hand out of his own pants to snatch Mike by the wrist and twist his arm around, pinning it against his lower back. "I'll have to remember that."

 

The abrupt shift in weight sends Mike face down, cheek pressed against the cold granite. He has no choice but to spread his legs farther apart to prevent himself from toppling over. “Harvey-“ his voice breaks.

 

Harvey pulls back panting, his face slick with spit. “I want to be inside you, Mike.”

 

 

They hadn’t gone that far the night before; just spent hours languidly exploring each other, with hands, lips and tongues – the newness of skin on skin contact bringing both men to climax several times over leaving them both exhausted sated and drifting off together into a satisfied slumber.

 

“Y-yeah.” Mike stutters, lust struck. “I – yeah. Okay.”

 

“Okay?” Harvey repeats, picking up something off, unsure in Mike’s tone. “Mike.” He states earnestly. “You have done this before, right?”

 

 

Mike laughs breathily. “Been treated like a breakfast buffet? No.”

 

Letting go, Harvey gently urges Mike to turn around, resting his hands around bike muscled thighs. “Mike?”

 

 

“I’ve fucked a guy,” Mike declares defensively.

 

 

Harvey’s eyes narrow in disbelief. “I did!” He insists, tacking a reluctant “once…” on the end. “I hooked up with this senior when I was a freshman at Princeton. It just - didn’t go very well.” He finishes sheepishly.

 

Harvey’s gaze turns cold. “What do you mean by didn’t go well?”

 

 

“Umm…” Mike blushes. “Well, he uh…” Mike stalls trying to figure out where to begin. “He was pretty much your stereotypical definition of a closeted frat boy; tall, toned, tan – shit. This sounds like something out of ‘Straight Man Tales.’” Mike shakes his head.

 

 

“I was at a keg party with Trevor and I noticed this guy had been watching me all night.  It was beginning to weird me out because just the night before I’d been laid out by a couple of jocks on my way back from class and I didn’t relish the idea of repeat performance so I left.” 

 

 

Harvey is still on his knees in front the blonde, his fingers stroking gently, urging him to continue.

 

 

“He followed me.”

 

 

“Did you report it?” Harvey’s voice is simultaneously hard and laced with regret.

 

 

“Why the hell would I telegraph being a lousy lay to the entire campus? I have a hard enough time getting laid just being me.”

 

 

Mike laughs at the confused look on the older man’s face. “Okay, first, it’s not what you think. God, this is mortifying.”

 

 

Harvey grasps the loose skin above Mike’s balls and tugs gently. “Am I going to have to get mid-evil on your ass?” He presses.

 

 

“You’re going with Pulp Fiction, Harvey. Really? Let me go on record now that will not be wearing a gimp outfit, ever. Ahh!” Harvey tugs harder, only this time he switches tactics, taking Mike’s sack into his mouth, and bathing it with his tongue before releasing it with a slurp. 

 

 

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, kid.” Harvey’s voice is filled with dark promise, and Mike takes a minute to let that sink in.

 

 

“Okay, okay, just stop with the torture” he chuckles, his hips chasing Harvey’s mouth, the action bringing a smile to the older mans face. Mike’s relaxed and playful behavior is enough for Harvey to realize he’s not about to hear another tragic tale in Mike’s life story.

 

 

“So he starts walking next me and pulls one of those cheesy ‘hey aren’t you in my Chem class’ lines and by the time we hit the edge of the quad his tongue was down my throat. We ended up sneaking into an empty dorm room. Things started getting hot and heavy from there; we’re making out, hands down each-others pants. I start to go down on my knees when he says,” Mike shakes his head at the memory, a huge smile on his face. “He says ‘enough of that. Come on and fuck me already’, drops his pants and hands me a condom.”

 

 

Harvey looks confused for a minute then smiles. “He wanted you to top him.” At Mike’s nod Harvey laughs. “And you didn’t want to?”

 

 

“I didn’t _not_ want to, I just assumed I’d be the one getting fucked.”

 

 

“It's because of your soft features,” Harvey’s agrees, tugging on Mike’s very rock hard erection. “So. What did you do?”

 

 

“Yeah… that’s where the ‘didn’t go too well’ would come in.’ I was so nervous I could only manage a semi. He tried to help, kept stroking me and talking dirty; I finally got it up enough to… you know…”

 

 

Harvey finds it adorable that Mike can’t bring himself to say fuck, penetrate or even get it in.

 

 

“Honestly, to me it felt like it took forever, but I must have been doing something right with the way he was grunting swearing. By the time he came, I just felt sore and even more frustrated than when we’d started. He did finish me off with a blow job, though.”

 

“Well that was nice of him.” Harvey laughed.

 

 

“I thought so too until the next time I saw him. One of his friends knocked me down on the basketball court and he called me a fag.”

 

 

“What a dick.”

 

 

Mike shrugged. “He gave amazing head.”

 

“You never tried again after that?”

 

 

“It was pretty damaging to my ego. Besides, I got kicked out of school not long after. Then other things took priority.” Mike pauses trying to gauge the older man’s mood.  

 

 

“So uh… You still want to… Because I may be a bad lay, but my boss says I’m a really fast learner. Oh -” Mike grins. “I’m also incredibly flexible.”

 

 

Harvey lets his head fall forward into Mike’s groin inhaling the musky sweet sex sweat coating the blonde’s body and smiles into those beguiling blue eyes. The thought that Mike would really be his and only his was a heady feeling.

 

 

Hooking his fingers into the crease of Mike’s ass he pulls the smaller body toward him. “Bet your ass I do,” he growls, pressing a kiss to the plump crown of Mike’s long, lean erection. “But I want to take my time, and I have to drop by the office for a bit.”

 

 

“Harvey,” Mike whined. “You. Are. Not. Serious. Tell me you’re joking.”

 

 

Laughing, Harvey stands pulling Mike flush against his body. “Mmm,” his lips smack messily against Mikes. “I wish I were but I’m having some important files delivered to the office. I’d have them delivered here but there are confidentiality issues and I need to be there to personally sign for them. It shouldn’t take too long.”

 

 

Harvey steps back dragging Mike along with him. “Besides, when I get back you will have my undivided attention for the rest of the weekend.”

 

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Harvey.” Mike’s cock bobs obscenely between his legs as he walks. “And what am I supposed to do with this?”

 

 

“You’re not going to do anything with that,” Harvey orders, not stopping until the back of his legs hit his mattress and he drops down, pulling Mike down on top of him. “I didn’t say I had to leave right now, did I?”

 

 

“I’ll come with you.” 

 

 

Harvey’s smile is positively filthy as he rolls Mike beneath him, pinning him to the mattress. “Yes you will.”

 

 

He kisses his captive deeply until Mike’s eyes glaze over. “And if you’re a really good boy,” Harvey kisses Mike again wondering how he ever got through a day without tasting that sweet mouth. “When I’m done with you you’ll be lucky to have just enough energy when you come around to take a shower so I can take you back to bed when I get home.”

 

 

“What, no dinner first?” Mike groans as Harvey starts nipping down his body.

 

 

“Dinner?” He catches the lip of Mike’s belly button between his teeth. “I’m still working on breakfast.” 

 

****

 

He should be back at the condo with Mike. The kid has been sending him text messages all day, each one brief, but with a picture to that makes Harvey want to… That makes Harvey WANT. Unfortunately, when Ray had pulled up to the building Kendall was waiting.

 

 

“What are you doing here?” Harvey practically snaps at his client.

 

 

“Have you eaten?” Kendall asks casually, and Harvey almost laughs. Almost. “I thought it prudent to bring these to you in person.”

 

 

His eyes shoot to the file under Kendall’s arm, and though he really doesn’t want to, he needs to see those documents. “Come on, I know a place.”

 

 

The bistro is highbrow enough to meet Pearson Specter standards, but only just. Harvey purposefully chooses a table at the rear of the restaurant where he and Kendall can speak in relative privacy while still keeping the man more than an arms length away on the opposite side of the table.

 

 

The waitress's perfect timing has her setting down their coffees just as his phone pings and Harvey uses the distraction to drop his hand beneath the table and glance at the screen. It’s another picture, this one obviously taken in the locker room at his buildings pool.

 

 

The kid is wearing a painted on pair of hip hugging boy-shorts, in the most perfect shade of turquoise that compliments his eyes, a coquettish grin on his face and nothing else- only slightly less malicious than the pictures taken in the shower just after Harvey had left him.

 

 

If this is any indication of how their relationship is going to be, Harvey’s going to be one very happy man – if he can ever get home. The moment the thought crosses his mind; Kendall’s voice pulls him back to the present.

 

 

“I take it you’ve had a chance to review the records?”  

 

 

The question is innocuous enough given the files Kendall turned over were going to play an integral role in the upcoming proceedings, but the thinly veiled conspiritus glance he shoots Harvey has the senior lawyer’s hackles rising.

 

 

Everything about the IBRA screams deceit, every member duplicitous and untrustworthy, Harvey feels sullied just being in their presence; and considering he’s a lawyer that’s saying a lot about the type of people he’s supposed to be representing.

 

 

“We have.” Harvey answers smoothly.

 

 

“And Mike?”

 

“He’s a lot stronger than you think,” Harvey fires back unblinkingly. “But you mentioned you have more.”

 

 

“I hope you’re right.” This time, Kendall’s gaze falls to the table. “I didn’t… I should have brought these to you immediately,” he says, pushing the folder across the table. “But I was hoping it wouldn’t be necessary.” 

 

 

“Christ,” Harvey exhales a swear after noting the date of the first of many correspondences between James Ross and Emile Ellis.

 

 

Initially, they are banal introductions, venerations of Ellis’ work from Ross. As the letters progress, though, Harvey can pinpoint the exact moment when Ellis must have met Mike, because the tone of his replies shifts from routine to borderline fanatical. Still, it’s the date of first contact that has the lawyer stunned and his gut telling him things are going to get much worse from here on out.

 

 

“Have these been verified?”

 

 

“By whom exactly, Mr. Specter? Except for Ellis and Pierce I’m not sure anyone else knows of their existence.”

 

 

“Why bring them to me now?” Harvey’s eyes spark with anger. “What’s your agenda, Kendall?”

 

 

“You already know what I want, Mr. Specter, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop treating me like I’m the bad guy here. You’re supposed to be my advocate.”

 

 

Harvey runs a hand through his hair in frustration. Kendall’s right, but Harvey can’t bring himself to say it. There’s too much on the line to let his guard down or fly off the handle. “This has nothing to do with financials. If this is your way of getting to Mike-“

 

 

“Look. Harvey-“ It’s the first time Kendall has used his given name and it sets Harvey’s teeth on edge. “I’ve been hiding all of this for far too long and if I don’t find a way to bring it to light, it’s very possible it’s going to happen again. I won’t have that on my conscience. Not this time; not when I could be in a position to make a difference.”

 

 

Kendall waives off the approaching waitress. “You have what you need to unseat Pierce. Exposing what Ellis did with Pierce’s prior knowledge and doing it in a semi-public forum will force IBRA to take more severe disciplinary action against him to save face. They won’t have a choice.”

 

 

Kendall looks slightly ashamed. “Admittedly, as I’ve said I have wanted to meet with Mike for a long time, but I do have ulterior motives for coming forward now. The council will be meeting in the next few days to vote in the new Directors. Pierce is running again. If he wins, it will be another 2 years before he can be challenged.”

 

 

“And you’re finally eligible to run against him.”

 

 

Kendall’s non-answer is telling enough.

 

 

“And as for that?” Kendall motions to the folder. “I don’t know how Ellis will react. He isn’t just reckless in his research. I didn’t want Mike to be collateral damage. Mr. Specter, if you believe nothing else about me, please believe that I do have that boys best interest at heart.”

 

 

Harvey wants to call bullshit. Why someone would put themselves on the line to protect a complete stranger is beyond him -- though he does realize the hypocrisy of that thought the minute it crosses his mind considering he's been doing it for Mike since they met. 

 

 

“I will go over everything and put together our strategy. You just be sure the council is ready for the meeting and Pierce stays out of the loop. I want him off guard for the meeting. I’m sure we have enough with what you’ve provided already, but I want him blindsided when I crush him.”

  


Harvey and Kendall simultaneously stand, their eyes meeting across the table. “And Mike?” 

 

 

“You let me worry about Mike. For now, just schedule the meeting – and no more surprises.”  

 

 

Nodding, Kendall vehemently shakes Harveys’ hand.

 

 

“You have my secretary’s number. You just tell her when and she’ll take care of the rest.”

 

 ********

 

It's been an hour since he and Kendall parted company and Harvey still feels light headed and more than a little nauseated with what he's learned. Closing the file, he leans back in his chair swiveling around to look out over the city. The view usually calms his mind but right now it’s in such chaos it’s as though he can hear every car horn, every voice.

 

 

“What are you going to do?” Donna takes Mike’s usual seat on the other side of the desk. She looks at the file but doesn’t touch it.

 

 

“Nothing.” The effort to keep his voice even is so obvious it’s painful.

 

 

“Harvey, don’t pull that shit with me. Do you really think you should keep this from him, especially now? What if he finds out? Is that any way to start a relationship?” 

 

 

He doesn’t wonder how Donna knows about the hours old change in his relationship with his associate much less the contents of the file; he stopped coming up with theories settling on corporate spy. It seemed to fit, and from there he decided if she was a spy she had to be working for Pearson Specter, given the firms success. If not, well, she was good to him and the rest didn’t matter.

 

 

“It isn’t relevant to the case.” He says more forcefully, as if he says it enough it will make it true. 

 

 

“Keep it up. At least it’s beginning to sound more believable.”

 

He doesn’t know why he's bothering to lie to the one person he knows without a doubt is in his corner – in Mike’s. “If he finds out… Kendall’s right. What good would it do now?”

 

 

“It wouldn’t do any good Harvey.” She says sincerely.  “It will probably break him.”

 

 

That's one thing Harvey loves about this woman. She doesn't pull her punches. “But if he finds out you knew and tried to hide it from him?”

 

 

“He’ll be devastated.” Harvey finishes softly. “All he has left of his parents are memories. I don't want to be the one to take those away from him-take one more person from his life."

 

 

“You're not, Harvey. You're not responsible for his fathers actions.” Donna’s voice is sincere.

 

 

“So I tell him. Show him these. Open old wounds and leave more questions and doubt in his mind than he’s ever had - that he’ll never be able to get answer for.” He picks up the file only to slap it back down on the desktop. “And then what?”

 

 

“And then you do what you’ve been doing since you met him, Harvey. You take care of him. We take care of our boy and make sure he knows we’re not going anywhere.” And with that Donna quietly exits, grabbing her purse on the way to the elevators.

 

 

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” He says to the empty room.

 

**** 

 

 

“Honey, I’m home,” Harvey mutters to himself, hanging up his jacket and tossing his keys in the bowl by the front door. “Mike!” He calls out a bit louder, announcing his presence as he enters the living room.

 

 

“You were gone a long time,” The blonde scrambles off the sofa where he’d been sprawled, immediately wrapping himself in the larger man’s arms greeting him with a deep kiss.

 

 

“You knew about my long hours before we got together,” he plays along with more ease than he feels. Pulling the arms from around his neck, Harvey plucks the bottle of beer dangling from Mike’s fingers and takes a swig, then motions to the immaculate kitchen. “And where’s my dinner?”

 

 

Mike smiles lewdly and Harvey pulls him close. “That’s desert.”

 

 

“Don’t be so conventional, old man. I’m pretty sure having desert first once in awhile won’t spoil your dinner.”

 

 

With an arm wrapped around Mike’s waist, Harvey leads the two of them toward the kitchen where he deposits Mike and his beer by the counter and goes to retrieve one of his own. If they are going to have this discussion he's definitely going to need alcohol.

 

 

Mike stretches forward from the opposite side of the island pushing a few slips of paper toward the older man. “Besides.  I was busy.”

 

 

Harvey glances at the receipts. That explained the boy-shorts that suddenly appeared; Harvey makes a mental note to have Donna schedule them a few days off somewhere tropical. The second slip of paper has him raising an eyebrow in surprise.

 

 

“You had a spa day. Get your nails done, princess?”

 

 

“Mmm,” Mike answered in the affirmative. “Full service salon, actually. Total body cleansing and-“

 

 

Harvey spins the paper around making sure he’s reading the itemized receipt correctly and smiles. “You got waxed.” His voice drops huskily.

 

 

“I did,” Mike grins.

 

 

“Where?” Harvey’s eyes darken, traversing Mike’s body hungrily regardless of the fact the blonde is fully dressed.

 

 

Jauntily Mike taps the receipt. “At the salon. Jez Harvey. Keep up.”

 

 

“Cute,” Harvey smirks. “So tell me something, how much time have you spent overthinking this today?”

 

 

Mike bit his lip, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. “Umm, how about I just recommend you clear the search history on your computer and we leave it at that?”

 

 

“Relax would you.” Harvey soothes, wishing he could take some of his own advice. So many big things are happening all at once – too many, and he wishes more than anything he’d never taken that meeting today so he could just bury himself in Mike, both figuratively and literally before it all goes to hell.

 

 

“After the humiliating story I told you? I can’t help it.”

 

 

Harvey downs the last of his beer and grabs two more out of the fridge before taking Mike’s hand and pulling him toward the living room. “If it’s any consolation I can assure you, you are the one that’s going to be getting fucked. Satisfied?”

 

“Uh…” Mike looks at Harvey out of the corner of his eye. “Not yet?”

 

 

“Right answer.” Harvey praises, enjoying the playfulness while it lasts. He opens his second beer and downs a good third of it before speaking. “Mike –“

 

 

“So when is our meeting with Kendall?” Mike interrupts, smiling at the surprised expression on Harvey’s face. “You did speak to him today, right? Give me a little credit Harvey, you’re not as stealthy as you’d like to think.”

 

 

 

“I guess I should leave the spy work to Donna then,” Harvey mumbles, reaching for his briefcase. “Mike, “ he starts again, realized no amount of beating around the bush or carefully chosen words are going to make this pill easier to swallow. “There’s something I have to show you.”

 

 

 

He sits down, but has to coax Mike with a none-too-gentle tug to the wrist, which has him landing half on the sofa and half on Harvey’s lap.

 

 

 

Harvey’s hand is firm against his thigh, a gesture Mike is beginning to associate with the older man’s version of a hug, and his eyes are drawn to the file Harvey has laid out on the coffee table. “I wasn’t going to meet with Kendall today, he just showed up at the office.

 

 

 

The trepidation in his voice, in the room is palpable. When Harvey makes no move to hand Mike the folder, Mike cautiously reaches out laying it open across his lap.

 

 

 

Harvey intently watches Mike’s body language, his hand now stroking the younger man’s legs as blue eyes dart across the first page. Without a word, the page is flipped and Mike begins on the second.

 

 

 

At first, the way the blonde is absorbing the information is no different than any other file Harvey has given him in the last few months, but ever so slowly the shaking begins; first his head, a small back and forth motion of denial, then his hands, a subconscious movement showing just how badly the information is effecting him.

 

 

“Mike-“ Harvey attempts to speak.

 

 

 

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Mike whispers. “These dates - My father was corresponding with Ellis before… before I was born?” Wide blue eyes turn to Harvey for answers, exactly what the older man wanted to avoid. “I don’t understand. They weren’t even in the same field of study. My father majored in Philosophy and Psychology. According to this, he admired Ellis’ work. Harvey -”

 

 

 

“Mike, you need to calm down. I haven’t even had a chance to verify any of this yet, but I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else.”

 

 

 

With his hand he cups Mike’s cheek. It takes a bit of force to turn Mike’s attention from the damning pages in front of him.

 

 

“I get the evidence is painting your father in a pretty bad light- he obviously wasn’t innocent in all of this, but remember you are only getting half a story. You will only _ever_ be able to get half the story. Your father isn’t here to explain or defend himself.”

 

 

 

“Please Harvey.” And since this entire mess came to light Mike’s eyes are filling with tears. “He studied Ellis’ work!” Mike hisses. “He handed me over to that man knowing- KNOWING…”

 

 

 

Mike’s breathing hard, flipping from page to page. Harvey knows his genius can read fast but it’s obvious he is seeing the words, maybe focusing on certain words in particular, absorbing their definitions to replay in loop over and over again in his mind, muddling up his thoughts, fueling his anger and hatred and confusion.

 

 

‘Admiration, potential, greatness,’ all words James Michael Ross is raining down upon Emile Ellis, the man that’s been stealing into Mike’s subconscious and giving him nightmares since he was a little boy.

 

 

“He didn’t love me,” Mike concludes. “He couldn’t have.” Harvey closes his eyes against the harsh words. “He -“

 

 

“Mike, stop!”

 

 

“D-do you-” Mike stutters out without thinking, then swallows hard against the words forcing them back down into his chest, realizing what he was about to do; boxing Harvey Specter into a corner, boxing him into a he’s never wanted in the first place, and only after one night together.

 

 

“I can’t answer that,” Harvey’s voice is gravely, rough with emotion. He pulls the boy into his arms and holds him tight, Mike’s head tucked securely under his chin.

 

 

“No. No, of course, I didn’t mean to say that.” Mike wipes furiously at the tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m just-,” he laughs humorlessly. “I’m a mess.”

 

 

“Mike. I can’t say it – won’t say it just because you are going through this right now….” He allows silence to fill the space of a few seconds longer than he can stand. “Because God help me, Mike. I do.” He declares unashamedly.

 

 

“You don’t have to, Harvey. I know you’re just-“

 

 

“Have you ever known me to not know my own mind, Mike?” With one finger he tilts Mike’s chin up. “I do love you.”

 

 

Mike’s breath catches. “Show me. Please Harvey? Hold me.”

 

 

“I am, Mike.” He gathers the slim body closer; his fingers gripping short blonde strands tightly as he presses a harsh kiss to the boy’s mouth through choked back sobs.

 

 

Taking that as an invitation, Mike is suddenly straddling Harvey’s thighs. “I need you, Harvey. Please, I need…”

 

 

Its obvious Mike is flying apart, and there is only one thing he can think to do calm his boy’s mind.  “I know.”

 

 

Picking Mike up as he stands, Mike’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his mouth still working frantically to swallow his mentor whole, Harvey moves them both to the bedroom where he dumps Mike on the bed.

 

 

Harvey toes off his shoes and tosses his shirt aside; while Mike makes quick work of the lounge wear he’d borrowed from Harvey’s closet. It’s seconds before they are once again wrapped around each other on the bed resuming where they’d left off.

 

 

“Rationale is telling me,” Harvey pants in between kisses, “that we should not be doing this right now. You aren’t in the right frame of mind.”

 

 

“It was the plan before…” he doesn’t finish that sentence. “It’s what I need Harvey. You are what I need.”

 

 

“I’ll always give you what you need, Mike. It might not always seem like it-“ Both naked, he pulls the slim body against his own, his hold firm but his touch gentle in an attempt to quiet the frantic motions. “Be still,” he whispers as Mike begins to cry silently. “I’m here, Mike. We’ll go over this again in the morning and as many times as it takes after that. We’re going to take things one-step at a time and we’ve got all the time in the world. I’m not going anywhere.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey, Mike, Donna & Louis Interaction, But Mostly LOTS of M/M Mike/Harvey Graphic Sex

Chapter 6

 

Harvey Spector isn’t known for being a patient man when it comes to his indulgences, though knowing that Mike is his for the taking does go a long way in strengthening is resolve.

His eyes traverse the expanse of pale flesh currently wrapped around his side.

…But that doesn’t mean the wait isn’t going to be hell on earth.

What they’ve done up until this point has satisfied most of Harvey’s carnal desires on a primal level: so much so that if it hadn’t come up in conversation earlier that morning, Harvey would never had guessed that Mike was a novice; the boy throws himself into everything he does with such enthusiasm.

Harvey can’t help but be proud he was able to stave off Mike’s attack, though it took a herculean effort on his part to put the breaks on, but he needed to talk Mike down from the brink of his emotional break and get them back on familiar ground or he didn’t think he’d be able to look himself in the mirror in the morning.

It’s a little unnerving to him though, just how much he wants his associate. He’s had men before – nothing that’s ever lasted more than a few one-offs, but that was back in college. Since then there’s been the occasional one-night stand, but this is different.Things between them have been so moving fast. With anyone else, Harvey thinks, it would be a non-issue; probably because usually, once the sun came, up he knows he’ll never see whoever it is again.

But this is Mike and he isn’t going anywhere.

For some reason instead of feeling trapped, the thought puts Harvey at ease, causing an unbidden smile to curl the edges of his lips. He checks the time again. It’s just after 11:00PM.

Mike shifts restlessly, rubbing his face against Harvey’s shoulder until it’s snuggled securely into juncture between the older man’s bicep and armpit. He glances up from his prone position, thrown by the foreign expression smoothing the older man’s features. He would almost define the look as contentment, but this is Harvey and that make no sense. Mike mind flashes through the tens of dozens of dictionaries and thesaurus’ he’s memorized but that just leaves him more perplexed.

Content. Huh…

“What’s wrong with your face?” He finally asks. At the answering scowl, Mike settles back down hiding his smirk against the solid chest beneath his cheek.

"Thanks for all this." Mike starts uncomfortably. “You've been really...”

“Accommodating?” Harvey shifts his arm pretending to be put off by his associate’s disregard for personal boundaries.

“I was going to say cuddly," The younger man mocks.

At that, Harvey is tempted to push Mike away, but as if able to read his thoughts, the lanky body wraps tighter around Harvey’s waist. 

Harvey allows it for now- but only because he selfishly wants to keep touching that warm young flesh. There's nothing cuddly about the things he wants to do with Mike, he reminds himself. And if there's a small part of him that wants to keep Mike close for no other reason than to feel that soft skin against his own... Well who's to say what defines cuddling anyway.

Just as Harvey moves to cradle Mike’s body closer, the doorbell rings. He tries to maneuver out from under the slender frame, but the blond tightens his grip. “Expecting someone?” he asks warily.

“Yes… Off,” Harvey barks.

The doorbell rings again, and Harvey playfully swats Mike’s backside to get him roll over. “Just be a minute... Don’t move,” he adds as afterthought.

Cuddling. Whatever. He’ll take what he can get.

“Ashamed of me already.” Mike sighs dramatically, rolling onto his back, allowing the sheet to skim down to his thighs. “Don’t worry. I won’t interrupt your booty-call.”

Standing next to the bed tying the drawstring on his pants, Harvey eyes Mike critically, not attempting to hide the fact he’s staring at Mike’s semi erect cock with longing. “First of all, and take this as the shallow compliment it is, having someone looking like you answer my door naked? Just makes _me_ look better. Second, you’d better hope Donna doesn’t hear you refer to her as a booty call.”

“Already did,” a familiar voice carries in from the living area.

Mike snaps upright on full alert, pulling the sheet higher around his waist. “How did she get in?” Mike mouths wordlessly.

“I’ve had the keys to this place before you were born, Mike.”

“It’s just freaky the way she does that.” Mike shivers, reaching for something to help preserve his dignity.

They make their way into the living room where Donna greets them; her hair done up in a ponytail, but other than that, still dressed to the nines in a tight green Tahari dress and gold tipped stilettos. She sets her heavily shadowed eyes on her two boys, biting back a smile.

Both men are half dressed; Harvey smooth and put together, still not a hair out of place, though obviously just out bed; and Mike: sleep mussed and bleary eyed, has one hand tightly fastened around the waistband of his borrowed lounge pants in an attempt to keep them from slipping off, as they barely cling to his slim hips. 

Whereas Harvey is holding himself as though he just stepped out of the courthouse, another win under his belt, Mike is nervously fisting his toes into a deep pile area rug, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip looking for all the world like a little boy just caught raiding his father's closet.

She drops a gray duffel bag, tattooed with artfully rendered pot leaves and Indie band names scrawled across the surface, on the floor, but seems reluctant to hand it over. "Hey," Mike eyes the canvas bag. "That's mine."

“I dropped by your place to pick you up a fresh suit for Monday. It’s hanging in the front closet. Your gratitude will take the form of a triple skinny hazelnut latte that’s to be on my desk first thing." She eyes him again, daring him to ask how she gained entry to his apartment but he seems to be to distracted by his state of undress to call her on it.

"I also picked out the most non-offensive casual clothes I could find... But I think I like this look on you much better, Mike.” Her voice is low and sultry making Mike shift uncomfortably under her scrutiny. “Harvey should definitely get you out of those cheap suits more often.”

“Yeah, uh…” Mike drops his gaze to hide the flush coloring his cheeks. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he mumbles unconvincingly.

He looks to Harvey for direction, but for his part, the older man appears to be content with watching him squirm, just as amused with his discomfort as his assistant.

It’s just like being in the office.

“I’m just gonna’…” Mike makes a hitching motion toward the fridge. “Drinks.” He blurts and quickly shuffles off toward the kitchen.

Donna closes the distance between herself and her boss and hands him a file. “If this isn’t what it looks like, you’ve clearly lost your touch.”

Harvey sighs pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m trying to be considerate of the situation and not make him feel like I’m taking advantage of him.”

“Taking advantage?”  Donna’s brow rises in surprise.

“He’s all emotional-“

“He’s Mike.”

“And confused.”

“Not when it comes to you.”

“And he’s…” Harvey glances toward the kitchen to make sure Mike is preoccupied, and then lowers his voice to a whisper. “He’s never done this before.”

Donna literally has to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle a squeal of delight. “NO!” She grabs Harvey’s arm, pulling him farther out of earshot. “That’s so hot. How are you not hitting that?”

“Did you not hear what I just said? With everything he’s been through these last few days you really think he needs the stress of starting a…?” He ineffectually waives his hand in lieu of putting a name to their changing dynamic. “With me?”

“Harvey-“ Donna pulls her boss over to his sofa, sits him down crowding him into the corner. “You two are not starting a relationship.”

“Excuse me?”

Donna finds the stammer and uncertainty in Harvey’s voice endearing, but knows better than to call him on it.

“You are not starting a relationship. You are just finally taking your existing relationship to a physical level.” Harvey starts to turn away, but in one of her bolder moves she cups her bosses cheek and turns his head until he meets her eyes.

“Harvey, from what I can see you have been handling the emotional, touchy-feely, caring part you claim to know nothing about like a pro.” He rolls his eyes even though he can’t help the surge of pride that statement makes him feel.

“He makes it easy.” Harvey sighs, almost as if it’s a burden, and Donna laughs.

“So you’ve got the emotional side of this down for a change, and your sexual prowess is damn near legendary,” she leaves off the ‘I’d know,’ but they both know it’s there. “So what’s the problem?”

When she’s met with silence, Donna puts a gentle hand on Harvey’s leg, unsurprised by the lost look in her boss’s eyes. “Harvey. This _is_ the relationship part-putting those two things together.”

He looks stunned for a moment and she can read the dumbfounded ‘it can’t be that simple’ look he’s got written across his face. She nods encouragingly.

“I’ve been down this road with you a handful of times over the years, and in all seriousness I don’t think… No. I know this wouldn’t go as smoothly with anyone else.” Donna continues, and Harvey can hear the ‘Dana Scott’ as if she’d spoken the name aloud.

“He hangs off your every word, but will call bullshit on you in second if he thinks you’re wrong. He challenges you. He looks up to you and he craves your attention like air – or Red Bull.” She leans in, a wicked grin on her lips. “And if something as simple as a fist bump keeps him smiling for hours…”

“Donna!”

“I’m just saying he knows who you are Harvey. He’s seen your flaws and hasn’t flinched once. That boy was made for you and he’s not going anywhere. Close the deal Harvey, that’s all I’m saying.”

Mikes bare midsection suddenly appears in Donna’s line of sight, and she takes a good long look at the tight flesh, lasciviously noting her puppy has that succulent defined dip between his hipbone and the hard slope where it trails down to meet his groin that models strive for.

“Beer?” Mike thrusts a bottle in front of her face. When she glances up, she’s pleased to see Mike’s grinning from her appraisal. He shifts his attention to Harvey, holding a bottle out for him as well.

“Are you going to take what’s yours,” Donna smiles coyly as Harvey rolls his eyes at the thinly veiled jibe and grabs the bottle.

The two of them are facing each other, taking up most of the sofa, leaving Mike to stand uneasily between them. But that doesn’t last long thanks to Donna’s encouragement, that indulging in every filthy thought he’s been having about Mike’s compact body won’t cause any serious psychological damage. Without a word, Harvey opens his legs and subtly motions with his eyes, to the small space he’s created.

Mike’s eyes flicker back and forth between Harvey and Donna before he nervously takes a seat, surprised when Harvey unashamedly drapes the arm holding the sweating bottle over Mike’s shoulder to dangle in front of his bare chest, just like he’d done hours ago when they were alone and Harvey had just returned from the office.

Mike settles slightly, in body at least and gestures to the ominous folder. “Let me guess,” he attempts to ease the building pressure in his skull at the thought of more… just more. “I was actually hatched in a lab, adopted by a scientific corporation and raised my grandmother who really worked for the CIA as my handler.”

“No.” Harvey states firmly, his breath blowing teasingly against Mike’s neck. “This is background on the current sitting members of the Governing Council that are reviewing the materials Kendall provided. At least the ones with enough pull to unseat Pierce.”

Habitually Mike reaches out and begins flipping through the profiles, but Harvey is absolutely having none of it. Not tonight. “I don’t recognize any of their names,” the blond mumbles.

Accidentally on purpose, Harvey presses the cold, wet bottle against Mike’s warm skin, causing Mike to gasp and drop the folder. With a gentle kiss to the temple, Harvey settles back into the sofa taking Mike with him. “You wouldn’t. The IBRA have strict terms limits for their directors, three consecutive two-year terms. Once their term is up, they have to wait a minimum of four years to be eligible to run for a ranking position again unless they are promoted to a higher chair. This information is just…”

“Knowing our enemy.” Mike hazards, feeling a bit elated and awkward with the intimacy Harvey is displaying in front of Donna.

“On the contrary,” Donna picks up the file and tosses it on the coffee table, as always, anticipating her boss’ needs, and in this case especially, in complete agreement. “Finding allies. Theodore Bosch is the reigning chair of the World Congress Committee.”

At Mike’s confused expression Harvey elaborates. “Essentially, the closest thing to a president there is for an international organization such as the IBRA. Kendall got us a direct line in with Bosch. It’s his influence that’s going to sway the rest of the regional directors to take appropriate action against Pierce and Ellis and not try to sweep this back under the rug.” He summarizes.

Mike is once again awed by the behind the scenes machinations that have been going on during his self induced exile into the grandeur that is Harvey’s lifestyle.

“And where have I been while all this was going on?”

“Making like a hot little pool boy from every porn I’ve ever seen.” Donna smirks around the mouth of her beer bottle as Mike’s face flares red. “Which reminds me-“ Donna motions to the living room table where there is a brand new laptop, then to her shoulder bag where she’d stuffed her boss’ previous one. “I must say, Mike. For an innocent your internet searches on anal sex are pretty adventurous for a beginner.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mike buries his face in his hands, but as he presses back into Harvey to hide from his obvious humiliation he’s met with a very stiff surprise.

When Mike turns he’s pinned with a lusty, unapologetic stare, and Harvey’s arms tighten slightly, preventing him from pulling away.

“Don’t worry Mike, from what I saw you’re in good hands. Harvey’s done most of that at least once. Just be more mindful of what you click on in the future. Now I’m stuck having to take this laptop to a guy I know in Chinatown to be wiped before I can even bring it to Benjamin in IT just to have it wiped again, you naughty, naughty boy.” She sets her beer on the table and gathers her things. “As much as I’d love to stay, it’s getting late and I have my own social life waiting for me in a double parked McLaren downstairs. Stay up late. You have all day tomorrow to sleep in,” she winks.

They stand in tandem and walk her to the door. Without thinking, Mike reaches out and wraps his arms around the busty redhead momentarily stunning her. “Thanks Donna, for everything,” he whispers sincerely.

“Oh puppy,” Donna’s hands wrap around him. “You’re welcome.”

After a moment, Mike notices the hug is going on a bit long and Donna’s hands have migrated south from his shoulder blades. “Um, Donna?”

One hand drifts down from Mike’s waist to cup his ass, giving it a tight squeeze before being caught around the wrist. She looks up at Harvey with a mischievous smile. “You are a lucky, lucky bastard, Harvey Specter.”

“I know.” Harvey pulls Mike back, while simultaneously pushing Donna toward the open door. “Thank you, Donna.”

“Just doing my job, Boss-man.” She makes light as saunters down the hallway. “See you Monday.”

Alone again, Mike sighs and presses himself against the wall.

"I'm sorry, you know."

"About?" Harvey reaches out and runs his hands in random patterns across Mike’s ribcage. 

“You don’t like complications.”

“I hired you didn’t I?”

Mike huffs out a laugh. “I’m extremely high maintenance.”

“No more than before.”

“You deserve better.”

“I deserve the best.” Harvey corrects, leaving Mike to read between the lines as he leads them both back toward the bedroom.

“You’re my boss, Harvey.”

“That’s not going to change.”

The look of smug satisfaction and dark promise on Harvey’s face has Mike laughing in no time. “Ah, no.” 

“We’ll see about that.”

They aren’t even through the door and already they are naked. With a shove, Mike falls to the bed, and his arms are pinned above his head pulled whipcord tight. He’s looking nothing like the gangly boy, tripping over his own two feet and wearing suits two sizes too big for his frame.

Harvey kisses the breath out of him before pulling back and staring into those trusting baby blues. “I like you like this,” He murmurs gruffly, sitting up and pulling Mike tight to his chest. “So.” Harvey smiles, reaching into the nightstand to retrieve a bottle of lube. “Are you ready for me?”

Mike straddles Harvey, snatches the bottle from his hand, snaps open the cap and pours some of the clear liquid onto Harvey’s fingers. “Not yet.” He leans forward, pressing their chests together, giving Harvey easy access to the crease of his ass while licking messily into his mouth. "I thought you'd like to do the honors."

"You thought right."

The second Harvey’s finger ghosts across his entrance Mike moans and presses back. Encouraged, Harvey begins a relentless massage with the pad of a single finger, the freshly waxed skin combined with the slick of the lube making the slide even more effortless against the tight flesh.

Mike is so relaxed after a few minutes Harvey goes for a little pressure. There’s another moan and a sweet little high-pitched whimper thing that Harvey just has to hear again. His well-manicured thumb garners him a gasp he ends up stealing into his own lungs.

Before long, a lot sooner than he was expecting, he’s breached Mike to the first knuckle of his middle finger. He’s trying to gauge Mike’s discomfort by his body language and breathing alone because Mike hasn’t let up from his mouth long enough for him to see the expression on his face.

Not that he minds.

But Harvey wants this to be perfect, partly for his ego; but really he just needs to make Mike fly. And maybe just because it’s Mike - though he’s never left a bed-partner wanting, right now he feels acutely aware of reaction, cataloging every gasp, whimper and whine.

His inner dialogue must be affecting his performance because Mike pulls a few inches back from his mouth and eyes him curiously.

“This feels really good.” Mike’s voice is gravely and the pause from the oral tongue fucking has Harvey just now noticing the slight rocking motion Mike’s got going on with his hips. “I liked your tongue too, you know.”

Reassured, and a little ticked off at Mike for thinking he needed it, Harvey decides to go bold, rubbing the tip of his index finger along Mike’s rim going for the stretch. “Then next time I’ll lick you open,” He promises. That gets him a full body shudder and another mouth full of tongue.

“Fuck. Yes.” 

There’s no recoil or tensing, if anything Mike seems completely trusting, his body just opening up to his every touch.

Mikes hands have worked their way into Harvey’s hair as his kisses have become more desperate. He breaks away from Harvey’s mouth as two fingers press in.

He has an almost thoughtful look on his face, but it’s not a grimace, so Harvey takes that as a win. Timing this right, he carefully works a third finger in and just as Mike begins to show the slightest sign of distress, with a slight turn of his wrist and crook of his middle finger, Harvey finds Mike’s prostate and presses down.

“Holy shit!” Mike’s eyes snap shut, his mouth hangs open, and he shamelessly writhes on Harvey’s fingers trying to recreate that feeling.

If Harvey were a more poetic man he’d swear it was the most beautiful sight he’d ever laid eyes on, but for now he settles for hottest and his cock agrees, and can’t help the “Jesus, Mike” that falls from his lips as he watches Mike bounce against his fingers.

“Fuck me Harvey. Please.” Mike’s head lolls back and he’s shaking with the effort to get Harvey deeper inside, to rub against that spot that has his cock twitching and drooling and his legs trembling.

The begging touches Harvey’s baser desires and the sound of his hand smacking down hard on the surface of the nightstand to retrieve a condom has Mike laughing almost manically.

“On your back.” Harvey orders, practically knocking Mike off in his haste to get the condom on and lubricated.

With his free hand he strokes Mike from thigh to ass cheek and back again. “You have amazing fucking thighs.”

Mike’s eyes are glinting with lust, his lips pursed in amusement. “Does this mean you’re going to stop ridiculing me for riding my bike to work?”

“Not a chance,” Harvey smiles as the next pass of his hand bring one of Mike’s legs up and over his shoulder.

Harvey ravages Mike’s mouth until his kiss-slicked lips are swollen, his chest is heaving and in this position, Mike helpless to look anywhere else but directly into Harvey’s eyes.

Their gazes are locked until Harvey presses in and Mike’s eyes snap shut against the pain. Despite the foreplay, Harvey’s fat cockhead widening Mike’s taught hole is obviously intrusive and Harvey considers pulling out but Mike grasps onto Harvey’s waist, bears down even as he whimpers against the ache. The muscles give way and too soon Harvey is sliding home until Mike’s cock is snugly pressed between them.

“You okay?” Harvey asks quietly. This is why he’s never been anyone’s first time. Mike’s body is constricting around him like a vice, and trying to expel him at the same time.

“Yeah,” Mike gasps unconvincingly. “I read…”

“You really want me to gag you your first time out?” Harvey doesn’t mean to be crass, or even funny, this kind of give and take between them is just instinctual by now, he doesn’t think twice before the words are coming out of his mouth.

It obviously has the right effect though, because Mike’s breathing has gone from harsh and quick to deep and desperate. As watery blue eyes open again, Harvey can feel the muscles around his shaft relax a bit.

“You need to stop?”

Mike shakes his head, not trusting his voice.

“Mike. Tell me. Do you need me to stop?”

Mike exhales long and deep. “No. Don’t stop,” he states firmly.

Harvey studies his face for a moment longer and decides Mike’s not just telling him what he wants to hear. Grabbing a pillow, he shoves it under Mike’s hips, hoping the new angle will at least have him stimulating Mike’s prostate. “Okay. But if it’s too much, you tell me.” Mike closes his eyes and nods again.

The first few strokes are labored, but before long Harvey builds a rhythm that have the both of them panting and crying out in unison. Mike’s cock is limp, curling vulnerably against his belly, but Harvey cups the soft flesh and squeezes in a gentle milking motion; that, along with internal stimulation has Mike’s cock twitching with renewed interest.

“That’s my boy,” Harvey soothes, but the words aren’t thought out, not calculated to bring filthy play into the mix – but apparently it touches something in Mike because where minutes before he’d been struggling for release, almost as if he were doing it for Harvey’s pleasure – the leg over Harvey’s shoulder has clamped down tight and the free leg jammed between Harvey’s, precariously close to his balls.

“Yes. Harvey, please!” Mike reaches for his own dick but Harvey shoulders his hand away and begins pumping him faster.

“Come for me, Mike. I want to feel you in my hand.” Mike’s cock stiffens, but whether it’s from Harvey’s words, voice or steady stroking is anyone’s guess. “I want to feel you orgasm around my cock, Mike. You’re so fucking tight…”

Mike arches off the bed and his voice hitches. “There!” He gasps. “D-don’t move.”

Harvey freezes, but eyes still closed, Mike laughs, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. “No. I meant don’t change position. Keep fucking moving, damnit! I’m almost-“

Smirking, Harvey lifts Mike farther off the bed and…

“There!” Mike is out of his mind now. The top line of his shoulders and the leg wrapped around Harvey his only anchor to anything solid as Harvey begins to pound mercilessly into his body. With one last “Harvey…” which comes out like a prayer, plea and a curse Mike is coming.

Stopping Harvey mid-thrust and lets go of Mike’s cock to watch it pulse, angry and red, painting his cockhead, belly and chest in thick white cream. He waits until Mike comes down from orgasm and his body and breathing relax to gently set him back down. Leaning forward, Harvey licks a dollop of cum off Mike’s right nipple, taking a moment to gnaw on the vulnerable pink nub before pulling out.

Mike can’t hold back the hiss, but reaches for Harvey nonetheless. “You didn’t-“ He begins to protest, but Harvey shushes him with a gentle kiss to the lips.

“Oh, I’m still going to.” Harvey promises, pulling back to gauge just how badly he reamed Mike’s body. Judging by the puffy red hole that’s still slightly stretched out he thinks he can still finish without making things worse. Mike’s going to be feeling this for days regardless. Truth is, he should have taken it slower, but the whole thing, the memory of Mike in his minds eye bouncing up and down on his fingers begging to be fucked makes it hard for him to feel too guilty.

Reaching between their bodies, Harvey retrieves the condom and tosses it toward the nightstand and retrieves another. “Condom broke,” he smiles proudly.

“Because you’re so fuckin’ big,” Mike groans.

“Because you’re so fuckin’ tight,” Harvey retorts.

As he rolls the fresh condom on and slathers himself with more lube, he purposefully brushes the back of his hand against Mike’s sensitive hole watching it flutter and twitch.

“Sadist.”

And that kind makes Harvey feel a little bad. “I could just jerk off and come on you. Or you could give me a hand job – or a blowjob. He runs one finger along Mike’s over sensitized, come covered member, smiling as Mike pulls away slightly. “I’m sure I can get you up for another round.”

Long fingers encircle Harvey’s wrist and he’s met with the sincerest pair of crystal blue eyes. “But I want to feel you come inside me.”

Mike’s voice is so steady, sure and genuine, Harvey’s chest swells with love. Yes, he’s offering sex, but he knows Mike’s got to be in pain and in all honesty, Mike could have been asking anything right then; a kidney, the deed to his condo, anything, and he would have given it to him in heartbeat.

Harvey presses in again, and Mike can’t hide from the pain this time, but they both knew it was coming. Harvey begins to pump again, the motions a lot easier and slower this time around, but Mike isn’t really participating except to stroke Harvey’s arms and neck and wherever he can reach, while his legs lay slack, lacking the energy to do much more.

Apparently the picture of complete submission is the perfect aphrodisiac for Harvey because it only takes less than a dozen thrusts before he stills, his cock swelling and pulsing inside Mike’s tight channel and they finish off with Harvey slipping out of Mike’s body without notice as they exchange lazy lovers kisses; more lip nipping and tentative tongue touching than the oral fuck-a-thon from before.

“Thank you.” Harvey murmurs, the words barely audible by design, but Mike of course catches everything.

“It fuckin’ hurts, Harvey. I’m not going to lie. But I want to do it again… Just not in the next few days.” He chuckles. “And you can thank me by not making me sit any time soon.” He adds. “Monday’s going to be a fuckin’ joy.”

Harvey very uncharacteristically kisses the tip of Mike’s nose and rolls out of bed and into the bathroom, coming back a minute later with a bowl of warm water, a washcloth and a tube of Anusol. Setting the bowl on the nightstand, he gently taps Mike on the knee, gesturing him to spread his legs. “This should help a bit. Tomorrow, warm baths, ibuprofen and more cream. You should be feeling better in no time.”

Harvey’s words are clinical but his ministrations gentle and compassionate and though Mike won’t call him out on it, he can see the concern and love this man has for him – has had for him as always where it counts; in his actions.

Once satisfied the swelling has gone down a bit and Mike’s eyes have rolled back into his head thanks to the blessed numbing coolness from the cream, Harvey turns off the lights and pulls the slighter man’s already sleep drugged frame into a loose embrace.

“Sweet dreams.” He mouths the words against Mike’s temple as he himself drifts off to sleep with a smile on his face.

***

 

Mike is sitting opposite Harvey on a new charcoal pillow that miraculously appeared on his chair over the weekend. There is a black pillow on the chair to the right side of Harvey’s desk, the chair he rarely sits in because it’s not directly in front of his mentor.

Mike was confused at first until he gingerly sat down, instantly noting the subtle donut dip in the center. So Donna knew. About Saturday. About his… Mike sank down further sitting somewhat comfortably for the first time in 24 hours. So what? Mike was just too grateful to care-Especially since there is another one just like it on his chair in his cubicle.

There are instructions that the gray pillow should be switched out for the spare black one that is now artfully decorating Harvey’s leather sofa as an accent piece, should any clients show up, but Harvey pays no attention. He knows Donna will take care of it anyway.

Both men are tapping away on their respective laptops, occasionally turning away from the computer screen to jot something down on yellow legal pad. They sequestered themselves in Harvey’s office around 7:00am, and still had nothing more than they’d started with Friday afternoon except what Kendall had supplied them with.

Even after the mind-numbingly intense sex Saturday evening, then a ban on all things anal the following day thanks to deliciously painful ache in Mike’s backside, Mike spent a good portion of Sunday going over every page Kendall turned over at least two more times, in between warm baths, and still couldn’t find the answers he was looking for.

If Harvey noticed most of Mike’s focus was on the correspondences between his father and Ellis he hadn’t said anything. The fact that he ordered Mike to take multiple warm baths to sooth his aching backside each time he’d reach for that particular folder, Harvey argued was concern and coincidence rather than Mike’s adamant claim of distraction.

“This is useless.” Mike grasped his forehead in frustration and slowly stood walking a bit stiffly toward the window behind Harvey’s chair. “We’re not going to find information on the camp or any connection to the IBRA through a public search engine.”

He hasn’t even finished his sentence when the sound of a file being dropped to the desk brings their attention to their visitor. They both turn to see Louis’ smiling face.

“Names, dates and contact information on all members of the IBRA council, living or dead, for the last thirty years.” Another file hits the desk.

“Starting with Belinda Mendez,” Louis smiles at Mike’s startled look, “a list of people Ellis has had under his employ from medical techs down to the janitorial staff for the duration of his University tenure.” The third and final folder hits the desk. “A list of camp attendees from the same time you were there,” he gestures to Mike.

There’s an obvious pregnant pause that has Harvey on edge. “Whatever it is, just spit it out Louis,” he sighs, grabbing the file before Mike can get his hands on it.

“Some people have moved, but… the ones I was able to get in touch with had nothing but positive things to say about Ellis.”

“Well what about-“ Mike is reaching for the folder with Bella’s information when Louis interrupts. “Including nurse Mendez, Mike.”

“Paid off?” Harvey ventures.

“Honestly Harvey…” Louis slumps into the seat Mike vacated, sounding as world weary as them. “She sounded genuine. I’m sorry Mike.”

Mike nods, but seems to visibly deflate. She did work directly under Ellis after all.

“How did you get all this?”

Louis cocks his head to the side his expression one of sheer audacity at the question. “Really?”

“You followed the financials.” Mike answers for him.

“Numbers don’t lie, Mike” Louis concurred. “I’m sorry I don’t have better news.”

“No. Louis, I’m-“

“Thank you, Louis.” Both men’s attention snaps across the desk to Harvey in disbelief. “Really. You didn’t have to spend your weekend digging all of this up. I just… We really appreciate it.”

It’s like vengeance and Christmas and Louis’ birthday all rolled into one, and he wants to gloat, wants tell Harvey to repeat it, wants to be gracious even, but he’s so caught off guard he settles on, “well it just happens they have free Wi-Fi where I mud and the IBRA already gave me full access to their financials, so it wasn’t like I specifically did it for you.”

He’s so overwhelmed by Harvey’s sentiment he stands quickly practically knocking the chair over. “You can thank me by telling me where you got these pillows. They are really comfortable,” he rambles while Mike looks mortified. “What is this, ergonomic? I have to get one for my office.”

“I’ll have Donna get right on that,” Harvey smirks, eyeing Mike out of the corner of his eye as Louis hurries out. As he passes Donna’s desk she could swear his eyes are glassy with unshed tears.

“I think you broke him,” Donna’s voice carries over the intercom. “Nicely done.”

“Donna-“

“There already is a pillow on his office chair and tickets to the ballet will be here by end of day. But as nice as that was for him to do, I’m not going with him.”

“Wouldn’t dream of asking.”

***


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And... Back to the plot **Quick Re-post. Some Info Added To The Ross Senior Discovery**

Chapter 7

“I can’t believe she’d say these things.” Mike laughs, but it’s a hollow sound laced with denial and disbelief, forced and fake and so unlike Mike it makes Harvey’s chest constrict. “I mean… she was there.” His voice dissolves into a whisper.

Harvey watches as the blond becomes more and more withdrawn the farther along he gets, and knows Mike is close to falling apart.

“Here,” Mike’s voice rises as he runs his finger across the page as if to validate his point. “She actually calls him selfless and dedicated to his patien- Hey!”

Stunned, Mike looks on as the Mendez file is snatched out of his hands mid-sentence and put aside with the rest, pinned firmly under the elbow of a twelve-thousand dollar suit. Without a word, Harvey opens a tender offer letter and begins proofing.

“Harvey-”

“How far have you gotten with the Covington briefs?” The older man interrupts, eyes fixed to the desk.

“Nice non sequitor,” Mike mumbles wryly. He knows Harvey's well aware he’d only been handed that project Thursday, the night before everything went to hell. “I haven’t.” He answers simply.

“Don’t you think you should get on that, then?”

Mike sighs. “Look Harvey, I know what you’re trying to do but I have every right to know-”

“I’m trying to work, Mike, which is what you should be doing.”

"No..." Mike struggles to remain patient, knowing this is Harvey’s version of ‘I’m looking out for you’. "You’re trying to handle me. And in case it’s escaped your notice, this _is_ a case we’re working, regardless of my involvement. And while I appreciate the sentiment-”

“There’s nothing sentimental about it, Mike.” Harvey’s voice rises. “You have a job to do and I need you to focus on it. This IBRA business is on hold until further notice - at least until Kendall can get Bosch to set up the conference call. So for now it takes a back seat. Jessica has Louis working on the details. The 1300 pages of the Covington briefs, however, are all you and they're due. I need precedent, and arguments summarized and on my desk by tomorrow morning.”

When Mike doesn’t move, Harvey looks up from his desk, but instead of softening at the hurt blue eyes staring back at him, his gaze grows challenging and hard. “What, you think because we’re in a relationship now you can start slacking off in you other duties?”

“Excuse me?” Mike's eyes widen in abject horror.

“I’m paying you to be my associate, not give you special treatment-”

“Harvey,” Donna’s voice cuts in over the intercom. “Scott Swearegen is on the line. He wants to speak with you about modifying the tender offer before it goes public. ”

Harvey glances at his phone noting the hold light isn’t blinking. He looks up to meet Donna’s stern glare, while catching Mike's stricken expression out of the corner of his eye.

Taking a beat, he realizes if left to his own devices he would have effectively kamikazied the best relationship he's ever had, less than forty-eight hours after it had begun all because he didn’t want to see Mike hurt. And judging by the stiff shoulders and cold blue stare his efforts are a spectacular failure.

He’s reminded why he believes emotions are shit, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to let them kick his ass.

"Look," taking a deep, cleansing breath, he tries for some damage control, but it’s already too late.

The blond waives him off as he stands. “I’ll just get to those briefs. You’ll have them on your desk by the end of the day.”

Harvey watches him go, wanting nothing more than to call him back and explain, but the truth is no matter what their situation he’s never let discovery on any case that crosses his desk go to Mike without going through him first – much less something regarding the IBRA. Besides, explaining himself goes against every fiber of his being...

... Just like emotions.

Donna waits until Mike hurries past her and disappears from view before pinning Harvey with a look that actually makes him feel ashamed. “Way to go, big man.”

“Donna…” Harvey warns.

“What the hell _was_ that?”

“I don’t need this from you right now.”

Donna’s slightly appeased by the regret she hears in the older man’s tone. “He didn’t deserve that, Harvey.”

“I know.”

“You were about to use your relationship as a diversionary tactic.”

“I know, Donna… Thank you for stopping me,” he sighs.

“You owe him an apology, Harvey.”

Harvey leans back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head, his eyes downcast. “I can’t stand what this is doing to him.”

Donna enters the office closing the door behind her, a sympathetic look on her face. “You can’t stand what this is doing to you,” she assess softly. “Harvey, I know you are trying to protect him, I get that. And deep down Mike knows that too. But you can’t protect him from this. It’s happening whether you want it to or not.”

She watches the internal battle as Harvey struggles not to argue - because he can’t. Because it’s true and he doesn’t want to admit just how helpless and useless he feels right now. It’s just not in him.

“Stop trying to control him. Just be there for him and help him through it. Right now he’s questioning the motives of everyone who’s ever claimed to care about him. Don’t add yourself to that list. We both knew the emotional side of this was going to be hard for you to channel-"

"But I've got to stop treating him like a client," Harvey finishes.

"Wrong."

Taken aback, Harvey drops his hands to the desk, regarding his assistant with interest. “Then what?”

"You treat him exactly like a client when it comes to the case and stop letting your emotions run your mouth or you're going to say something you regret. You would never treat a client the way you just did Mike, much less a lover.”

When the stubborn man blanches at the term, Donna approaches until her hands are gripping the arms of his chair, her face inches from his own.

“Harvey, feelings are not a weakness, not where Mike is concerned, and if there’s one thing Mike looks to you for, regardless of your relationship it's the truth; no matter how hard it may be to hear.”

Feeling a bit drunk on power the power she’s rarely able to wield over her boss, she spins his chair slightly so he’s facing front again, before she straightens. “So stop acting like a pigtail pulling teenager and man the hell up.” There’s a small smile turning the edges of her lips that disappears once she’s rounded to the door.

"Shit." Elbows on the desk, Harvey rests his head on the palms of his open hands. "You're never allowed to leave me, you know that, right."

Donna sashays away and out of the office with a last parting "I'm not the one you're going to have to worry about, Harvey."

Pulling the files out from under his elbow, Harvey starts with the financials, figuring numbers will be easier to deal with given his current emotional state, rather than the sworn statements of people like Eva Mendez – a woman that could hold a scared and hurt four year boy, then turn around and sing the praises of his tormentor.

But as it turns out decades worth of financials for an international conglomerate are a little more overwhelming than Harvey can absorb given his current frame of mind.

“Donna. No interruptions today. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“On the case or your relationship?” Donna mumbles.

Exhaling deeply, Harvey runs his hands wearily across his forehead, promising himself that after another cup of coffee - possibly Irish, he will give his full attention to this mess and get the IBRA off his plate and as far away from him and Mike as possible.

****

Mike makes his way in the opposite direction of his cubicle, focusing on the steady buzzing in his head that is blessedly blocking Mike's brain from filling in the words that Harvey didn't say. 

Assuring him-self the coast is clear he ducks into the copy room, locking the door behind him. Rechecking the doors, he keys Louis’ pass code into the fax machine and prints the last forty some-odd pages stored in the hard drive and heads back to his desk. Popping in his ear buds, he concentrates on getting through the Covington briefs as fast and thoroughly as possible.

While Harvey made it clear he wasn’t to waste billable time working on the IBRA files, that didn’t mean he couldn’t do it on his own. He could always plead his case later. He wasn’t a great fake lawyer for nothing after all.

****

 It’s just past five when Louis sidles up to Harvey’s office. His face buried in a folder, he reaches out to wrap on the named partner's door, surprised when his fist meets nothing but air. He looks up to see the door open and Donna studiously ignoring him, typing away on her computer. He knows it’s a trap and he’s not falling for it, so he waits...

A full minute passes so he looks back to the redhead for instruction and once again to the open door. "Uh Donna... Don't you have to announce me or berate me or something?"

Exaggerating annoyance, Donna stops typing and gives Louis the once over, while catching the defeated slope of Harvey’s shoulders out of the corner of her eye, as he continues to stare at the sea of documents spread across his desk. "Are those the IBRA financials?"

Louis looks to the folder in his hand and slowly nods.

"And you found something." She’s doing a good job at hiding just how important it is that Louis has the answers Harvey’s spent the last seven hours looking for.

Cautiously, Louis nods again.

“Then go on.”

Louis laughs. "Oh, I get it. Because this involves his boy wonder all propriety goes out the window."

"Louis," Donna warns angrily. "Do you have something for Harvey or not?"

"Oh yeah! I came across -"

"Don’t tell me, Louis. Tell him." Donna snaps. “And Louis,” she adds, her eyes earnest and pleading. “Remember that this one isn’t just about winning.”

“Pfft, I know,” he says flippantly, ready to barrel through the door, but hesitates. Taking a half step back, he waits for the redhead to acknowledge him. “It's important to me too, Donna.” He reiterates soberly.

Donna releases a deep breath assured the seriousness of the situation has been acknowledged and nods toward Harvey’s office.

Louis steps forward but out of respect, remains in the doorway delivering a gentle rap on the glass before entering. “Harvey, you’re going to want to see this.”

"This better be good, Louis," Harvey sighs dully.

"Good? Harvey, this is Anneli Elisabeth Alhanko Skoglund performing Swan Lake."

"I'm not going to ask, and just assume in your world that's a good thing." As Louis opens his mouth, presumably to explain the reference, Harvey cuts him off by snatching the proffered pages out of his hand.

Harvey’s eyes follow the highlighted transactions. It only takes a minute before the entire picture begins to materialize before his eyes. He flicks the pages aside and looks down and the duplicate set he’s been toiling over all day and shakes his head in annoyance. This caring business is really throwing him off his game. Once again, he turns to the set Louis has outlined for him.

His jaw tenses as he scans the list; a cleverly hidden pipeline of bank transactions - hundreds of thousands of dollars in grant money and donations allocated to everything from office supplies to Alzheimer’s research Pierce has been skimming; pennies at a time, into off shore accounts for nearly three decades.

Louis waits as patiently as he can, watching the unflappable Harvey Specter grow more and more tense by the minute until finally he can't stand the silence any longer. "Harvey..."

“This is - shit,” Harvey whispers.

“Wait, what? Harvey, I was trying to help. I know they are our clients, but this is clearly embezzlement-”

"No. Louis,” Harvey interrupts. “You did it. I just wanted some ammunition to go after Pierce. You,” Harvey laughs. “You just gave me a goddamned headshot! Donna!”

How Harvey can be so brilliant and still not understand the basic concept of an intercom is beyond Donna, but smile in his voice as he calls out for her is well worth the aggravation.

“You don’t have to yell, Harvey. I can hear you just fine. What is it?”

“Get Mike. I want to go over what Louis found with him, finally give him some good news. Pierce isn’t just going to be out of a job, he’s going to prison.”

“He’s not here, Harvey.”

At that, the smile disappears from Harvey’s face. “What do you mean he’s not here?”

She sets a bound portfolio with color-coded tabs on his desk and crosses her arms. “You said you didn’t want to be disturbed, so around 4:30 when he came by to give you the Covington summary, I offered to take if off his hands."

"You never do that. Why would you - Oh," Harvey shakes his head. "You're punishing me."

“You said you didn’t want to be disturbed.” Donna throws back at him and turns to leave.

"Donna? That bit of rope you’ve been playing with today? You've just reached the end of it.” Harvey warns dangerously. "Did he say where he was going?"

“Home.” Comes the curt response.

The thought hits Harvey like a fist to the gut, and he can’t keep the rush of confusion and hurt from his face. He just assumed Mike would be coming back to the condo.

“Ross never leaves before 7:30 on a light day,” Louis points out unnecessarily. “And why is Donna punishing you?”

“Louis…” Harvey nearly pleads. “Not now.”

“What did you do, Harvey?”

“I didn’t do anything, Louis. And even if I did, it’s none of your business. Now you’ve done really good work. How about leaving on high note for a change,” Harvey dismisses the shorter man.

“I knew it.” Louis congratulates himself. “I mean, I thought maybe it was just whole memory thing, because that’s – well…” he briefly waves his hands across the stacks of IBRA documents, as if to acknowledge Mike’s genius, “impressive. But you actually like the kid. Like, really like him, don't you?”

“Louis. Do you have a copy of this to present to Jessica?” Ignoring Louis’ smug grin, Harvey begins to gather his notes. “Then get it together and meet me in her office in ten minutes so we can put this together to present to Bosch. We’re taking that asshole Pierce down.”

Louis jumps up, hand pointed toward the ceiling. “Like the three musketeers!”

“All right, d'Artagnan,” Harvey shakes his head. “Go sharpen your sword. I’ll meet you there.” Louis smiles as he struts out of the room.

“So now that you’ve made nice with Louis and some headway in the case,” Donna says, standing at the door with her handbag. “Perhaps you’ll do the honorable thing and let Mike know the real reason you’ve been acting like such an ass.”

“I’m always an ass, Donna. He knows that. You said it yourself.”

“Today, more-so than usual. But be that as it may, I’m going home. Alone. If you don’t want to be doing the same, you need to go find Mike and remind him of that. Goodnight Harvey,” she waves airily as she leaves.

Gathering up the pieces of the case he’s put together so far, Harvey heads out to Jessica’s office. At this point, there’s very little in the way of hard evidence to go after Ellis, which has just been fueling Harvey’s irrational behavior, but the fact that they have Pierce dead to rights is a good start.

****

The apartment is small, but welcoming and well lived in from what Mike can tell. He would bet his last dollar the afghan throw over the back of the sofa is hand crocheted. The rattling of porcelain draws the his attention from his surroundings to a slightly worn tea service being set on a water stained dining room table.

“Mr. Litt says your going by Mike now,” a soft voice ghosts over the young lawyer’s shoulder. “He explained…” Eva Mendez shakes her head, obviously at a loss for words. “Given what he told me, I can understand your confusion. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t know much about what brought you to the center to begin with; what I do remember was meeting a very sad and withdrawn little boy.”

“I don’t remember that,” Mike mumbles, a cold chill creeping up his spine at the realization. He’s spent so many years avoiding thinking about that time in his life that it never occurred to him that those memories were actually fuzzy, chopped and out of sequence. He turns his attention to her. “What did he -”

Eva shakes her head. “Dr. Ellis had a number of patients with extenuating circumstances…”

“Extenuating circumstances.” Mike repeats. “What exactly does that mean?”

“I started working for Dr. Ellis to supplement my income when Gib was first diagnosed. But the treatments weren’t helping and my money had all but run out. Emile… he was my savior. He looked into Gib’s medical records and sponsored him through the IBRA; got us access to experimental treatments a single mother of two would never had even known existed, much less been able to afford. Without his intervention, Gib wouldn’t be here with us today, and as far as I know the same holds true for many of his other patients. He was dedicated to helping them regardless of their financial standing.”

She hands him a framed photo of herself, smiling widely, flanked on each side by two handsome young men, a baby in her arms. “Gib and Lukas," she explains. At the stunned expression on Mike’s face, Eva smiles. “That was taken two years ago at Gib’s wedding. That little one, that's Enora; my granddaughter.” There’s a proud smile on her face, but it quickly disappears as she watches Mike stare longingly at the family photograph. 

“I’m sorry I can’t help you find the answers you’re looking for. I can only speak from my own experience with the man, and Emile… he was there for us when no one else was. I’m not naive enough to think his actions were completely altruistic. Actually, I’m pretty sure it was mostly about the science, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s helped a lot of people that otherwise wouldn’t have had a chance. People like me; a mother that would have done anything to save her child.”

Mike nods, unable to take his eyes off the picture. To him it's more than just a photograph; it's a snapshot of a something he will never share with his parents.  

“I’m happy for you, Eva. I remember,” he chokes slightly. “The stories you told me after – It was obvious how much you love your boys. They are lucky to have you.”

“James-” For the first time in years, Mike doesn’t flinch at his given name, instead, closes his eyes briefly giving himself over to the familiar voice, though slightly weathered with age, allowing it waft over his senses, warming and soothing him like it did when he was a boy.

 Suddenly Mike finds himself enveloped in a tight hug. “I was so sorry to hear about your parents.” She whispers softly.

Mike’s silence makes it obvious he’s having a hard time digesting all he’s learned and Eva’s eyes tear sympathetically. “It was my job to take care of you after your treatments, but I want you to know I always had a special place in my heart for you.”

“Thank you, Eva.”

Rattled, Mike’s voice is laden with emotion – gratitude, heartache, anger and betrayal toward a woman he, at one time remembered with only fondness. “I have to go,” he stammers his apology, as he pulls himself from her embrace.

“James-”

“Take care of yourself, Eva,” his breath shudders as he shows himself out.

***

It’s grown dark as Mike leaves the last house on his list, and makes his way down the lamp lit street, his mind recalling Eva’s words, and the mirrored sentiments of Mr. & Mrs. Slatus, Carmen Cespides, Laura blight and every other family member Louis was able to track down, all praising his tormentor, Ellis and his unconventional methods for intervening on their behalf when they’d had no where else to turn.

Wearily, he flips through the list again. All names are checked off now. He’s emotionally exhausted and no closer to finding the truth of what was done to him – of why his story was so different.

He thinks about going to Harvey’s but the betrayal of this morning, and the harsh stinging words are still echoing in his head. Besides, he’d left this early this afternoon, which probably won’t go over very well where the older man is concerned.

Then there’s that underlying sense of insecurity that he’s burdening Harvey with the soap opera that is his life.

A terribly lost and empty feeling gnaws steadily in his chest. He needs a do-over. He needs to be done with this IBRA business to see if what he and Harvey have together is real. He needs answers from his past so can move forward, and there’s only one way he can only think of to go about getting them.

It’s late, but he finds himself pulling his phone out of his jacket and dialing, even as the numbers are still materializing in his mind. The ringing goes on for more than a minute, and he’s just about to hang up when finally, someone picks up, slightly out of breath.

“Amelia! Sorry I was going to call. Meghan has a sore throat so I won’t be needing your services this evening, that’s why I didn’t send the car. I’m going to be staying in with her.”

Mike smiles. “Try having her gargle warm salt water. My Grammy swore by it and she was never wrong.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought – I was expecting a call from my nanny… Mike?”

“Yes Dr. Kendall. I’m sorry to be calling so late, but I was wondering if you had a few minutes this evening to talk. Preferably in person.”

“I – of course. Yes. Yes.” He answers enthusiastically. “I haven’t cancelled my nanny yet. I could meet you.”

“Not to be an imposition, but I could come over to your house. I wouldn’t want to take you away from Meghan if she's not feeling well, and I’m not far.”

“No. Of course. Yes. I will see you soon.”

******

Mike shifts uncomfortably on the overstuffed sofa, as Kendall gently slides the library's pocket doors closed behind him. “Meghan’s going to be upset she missed you, but she’s finally asleep.” He smiles, gratefully. “The salt water did the trick. Are you sure you don’t want something? Water, tea?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Kendall takes a seat in the wingback chair across from the sofa and stares intently at the blond. When no explanation is forthcoming, Kendall breaks the silence. “Is there a problem with our financials?”

“You mean the embezzlement?” Mike laughs lightly at Kendall’s surprised expression. “Yes, we found it.”

At least Mike had, and that was just separating the pilfered pages he’d printed into their respective piles.

“Pierce may be a brilliant neuroscientist, but he’s no criminal mastermind. If I caught it, Louis has too. And if Louis found it, he’s already brought it to Harvey.” To show him up, or win approval is always a crap shoot when it comes to Louis and his motivation on any given day. “The two of them have probably already presented it to Jessica and are outlining our next move.”

Kendall shifts uncomfortably. “That’s what this was really about, right, Dr. Kendall?” Mike continues. “You wanted Pierce out and needed us to help you do it?”

Kendall hangs his head. “I came across some discrepancies in the fund allocations for my branch awhile back and realized what was going on. I hoped I could use the information to take Pierce’s seat, but I assure you, Mike – I stand by my earlier statements. I plan to make sure every staff member associated with the IBRA is thoroughly vetted and every program strictly regulated.”

“I don’t doubt that, Dr. Kendall. That’s not why I’m here.”

If you aren’t here for the financials…”

“Right.” Mike draws a deep breath. “You mentioned that your attention was drawn to me when you found some of Ellis’ old files. I’d like to see the ones you’re still keeping from me.”

“Michael-”

“Listen Dr. Kendall, I’ve been through every word on every page of every document you’ve turned over, been through everything we’ve been able to turn up on our own and have spoken to just about everyone whose had anything to do with Ellis for the past three decades and it’s just not adding up. In the correspondences between Ellis and my father, while there wasn’t an instant kinship, there was recognition unacknowledged in those letters. There’s more. And I think you have it.”

Kendall turns away to avoid Mike’s gaze, and Mike notices his eyes coming to rest on large antique desk on the far side of the room.

“Look Dr. Kendall, my father’s forte was Philosophy. He was an amateur psychologist at best, and most of that was practiced at home, but there are vague references to studies...” Mike swallows hard wondering if he really is ready to open this particular Pandora’s box, but the simple truth of the matter is the secrets have already been let out and he is literally incapable of letting it go.

“My father had to have turned over his own research in order to have piqued Ellis’ interest in the first place. I need answers and you’re the only person left I haven’t spoken with.”

“And if it just poses more questions?” Kendall asks, his voice sincere.

“Then I dig deeper. Either way, it’s not your call to make. You started this.”

Impressed with Mike’s dedication and resigned to stop hiding things, Kendall nods. “You’re right,” he acquiesces.

Standing, he heads over to an eighteenth century Victorian secretary and unlocks the bottom drawer with a small, intricately ornate sliver key. But instead of opening the drawer, he proceeds to reach underneath it and pulls out a small, dusty, brown tattered billfold. “I found this by accident when renovating the place a few years back.” As he heads back over to Mike, he hesitates.

“Michael. Remember that these are just words on paper: and I know to someone like you-” he laughs. “As if there is anyone else like you, you’ll most likely take it at face value, but remember that words are open to interpretation and without the benefit of knowing the intention behind the words you can end up drawing conclusions based off your frame of mind going in.”

Flipping open the folder, Mike immediately recognizes his father’s handwriting. “May I?” Mike gestures to his messenger bag.

“Take them, they are yours, after all.” 

Mike stands, readying himself to leave. “Thank you, Dr. Kendall. I really appreciate this.”

Kendall walks Mike to the door. “Mike-” he falters. “You said you’d spoken to everyone… There is one more person you could speak with…”

Mike shakes imperceptibly, shoving his hand in his pocket before Kendall can notice. The truth is the thought did occur to him.

“I don’t think I could… That’s not…” He shakes his head. “Thank you for this. I guess I will see you at the meeting?”

“Tentatively, it’s set for Friday,” Kendall offers. “I was going to call Harvey in the morning, but Bosch hasn’t officially announced it yet. I’m assuming, if what you said is true, Bosch has the information your firm uncovered and is scheduling meetings with the heads of each branch to discuss what’s to be done moving forward.”

Mike taps his bag. “Thanks again.” As he steps out onto the stoop of the brownstone, he pauses. “Please tell Meghan I’m sorry I missed her and I hope she feels better.”

“Thank you. And Michael, please – remember what I said about those documents. They’re just words on paper: hypothesis and opinions written long before you were even born. If you really want answers-”

“Goodnight, Dr. Kendall.”

Kendall eyes the messenger bag, a sad smile on his face. “Goodnight Mike.”

***

Sitting on the floor in the dark of his apartment, the moonlight and a dull reading lamp his only illumination, Mike finishes reading the last of his fathers handwritten notes on depression and childhood trauma. In any other setting, Mike would have appeared to be working, even as he pulls the ever-present highlighter out of his mouth and softly traces the fading lettering with the pads of his fingers.

He's gone through everything except one magazine: an obscure periodical. Nervously, Mike flips through the publication to his to father’s article advocating bilateral ECT, which sends the electronic current throughout the entire brain as opposed to unilaterally which has a lower risk of memory loss, and how those side effects show promise in treating psychological trauma.

Notes regarding his own treatments seem to be none-existent, missing or destroyed, but given what he’s read so far, Mike can see why. The evidence stacking up seems to be leading him to one conclusion – whatever was done was not something Ellis came up with on his own. The tear tracks begin trailing down his cheeks.

 

The sudden presence in his apartment doesn’t surprise him like it should, considering he hadn’t noticed the door open.

“I’m sorry I left.” Mike says quietly, without looking up.

Harvey sighs, gathers up the legs of his suit pants and uncomfortably takes a seat on the floor next to his sedate associate. Though he’s worried about Mike’s mental state, he knows neither one of them are going to be able to rest until the Ellis situation is addressed. “What have you found?”

“Aside from the fact my father wasn’t pissed because he found out what Ellis was doing?” Mike tosses the medical journal in front of Harvey and avoids the older man’s eyes. “Judging by his research going back years before I was born, he shared in Ellis’ theories. He was pissed because someone else out it together and he was afraid he’d be exposed along with Ellis… ”

“Mike, you’re making assumptions. I thought I told you not to look to deeply into your father for this very reason. He isn’t here to defend or explain himself.”

“Harvey, this is the Journal of Experimental Medicine. It was created for scientists specifically interested in _human_ experimentation. Up until he met Ellis, all my father’s work was on paper, and done in university libraries.”

“So you think once he recognized your potential, he saw you as an opportunity to join forces with Ellis and test his theories?”

“Don’t you?” Mike leans back and bangs his head against the wall beneath his windowsill. “ECT was just making a comeback as a recognized treatment for mental disorders. My father was obviously a proponent of it if his research is anything to go by.”

As Harvey holds up the journal, a few news clippings fall out, which Harvey gathers and begins to read. “He published an essay on the unfair sanctions put on electroconvulsive therapy citing the same studies as Ellis had from the 1930’s.”

The news-clippings are from various scientific publications, Harvey notes, quoting highly respected IBRA members, half vilifying Ross, the other half touting him for his cutting edge views on a practice that was banned before it had a chance to prove it’s worth in scientific advancement.

“Still, Mike. You don’t know-”

“How can you defend him?” Mike yells, holding up the papers. “He did this to me. This? This is fuckin’ proof, Harvey.”

And Harvey can’t really argue – the evidence is pretty damming no matter how much he wants to preserve Mike’s memory of his father.

Mike’s body is tense as Harvey pulls him close, cradling the blond close to his chest. “Listen. Come back to mine. We could both use a good nights sleep, okay?”

He can feel Mike nod against his chest and presses a light kiss to the crown of his head. “We got Pierce,” he whispers, trying to sound upbeat.

“I know. I stole a copy of the financials.” Mike sounds sad and a bit chagrined.

Deep down, though, Harvey feels the same way he knows Mike does – it’ s a consolation prize. Second place, is still another way of saying the first loser.

***  


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 

Harvey is worried about Mike; but that’s nothing new, he’s been worried about the boy since the day they met. The difference between then and now though – In the past, Mike had usually done something stupid that led to Harvey having to worry, allowing Harvey to hide his concern behind anger.

Now however, Mike's in trouble through no fault of his own so Harvey's stuck, not only beside himself with worry, but with no legitimate outlet to camouflage his concern with anger. Even worse, for some inane reason... there's still anger.

Sitting at the table with Mike’s father’s notes spread out before them, Harvey surreptitiously watches Mike ignore the take out they’d picked up on the way back to the condo.

They’ve spent the better part of the last three days together and Harvey can’t actually recall having seen his associate eat. He does however remember a number of occasions back when they were just boss and underling that he’d placed so much importance on getting information to win a case he'd actively prevented Mike from buying something from a food cart, leave the office for lunch or made him work straight through dinner until the wee hours of the morning without a break. Once, he outright denied the boy’s request to go out together for a meal – though Harvey knows that last one was more an attempt to spend time together than to share a meal. Still, he can’t help but wonder now, in hindsight, if this has been an ongoing issue for the slightly built blond, a problem Harvey himself has helped to create or a new development due to the strain of his current situation.

He watches as the fork almost makes it to Mike’s mouth for the second time in fifteen minutes, when it’s abruptly set back down in favor of turning the page.

Observing Mike, silent; falling out of his ill fitting clothes, his normally bright blue eyes, red-rimmed and downcast as he re-reads his father’s article in the medical journal for the umpteenth time since they got in finally pulls Harvey’s pin and he can’t stop his concern from detonating like grenade.

“Mike, would you just stop for a minute?” Harvey hisses through clenched teeth.

“I will. Let me just finish-”

“You already know what it says!” Harvey finally snaps, snatching the booklet away and tossing it aside.

Mike sits stunned. “Harvey, what the hell?”

“You went to see Kendall.” Harvey accuses, because that's righteous anger he can get behind. “That’s where all of this came from, didn’t it?”

“Yes. I went to see Kendall. You weren’t letting me look at any of the documents so I did some investigating of my own.” Mike gets up to retrieve the periodical, angrily swiping it off the floor. 

“I don’t want you looking into this on your own, Mike.” 

Mike straightens, unflinchingly meeting Harvey's eyes. "You’ve made that abundantly clear, Harvey, but this is my life."

It may be true but it also stings. They share so much, have shared so many important things in their short time together that Harvey can’t help but feel what happens to Mike is also happening to him.

 

 

"We have our top people working on this. Including Jessica and Louis. There's no reason for you to be contacting anyone at the IBRA for any reason - even Peter fuckin' Kendall."

 

“What, you think he's going to lock me in his basement?" Mike’s tone is sarcastic, but it’s that very sarcasm that reinforces for Harvey, Mike’s need for protection.

"I’m going to lock you in a basement!” Harvey yells in frustration. “Mike, he's been playing us."

 

 

"Get real, Harvey. You don’t think I know that? He's looking to take over Pierce's division. He wants the power and prestige that comes along with the position. We get him that, he gets us billions in revenues when we sign the IBRA as a client - that’s what the firm is focused on." Mike argues dismissively, “not what happened to me.”

"I’m focused on you.” Harvey insists, and without conscious thought starts angrily spooning more Pad Thai onto Mike’s barely touched plate, while Mike watches curiously.

“I don't trust them.” Harvey continues as he shoves the plate back across the table. “And I don’t want them near you. Now eat.”

“So what you're saying is I can’t do this on work time and you think you can tell me what I can do in my free time…” The last sentence is left to hang in the air between them, the implication made clear as Mike begins gathering the documents. “I think it’s best if I just go back to my place.”

“No!” Harvey stands so quickly his chair flips over but he makes it to Mike in less than three strides. 

“No I can’t leave, or no I can’t do this on my own time?” Mike defiantly eyes the hand around his bicep.

“No, you don’t have to do this on your own. Period.” Harvey swallows hard, determinedly softening his voice, reminding himself that while he’s justifiably worrying about Mike he sucks at showing it and he’s just coming off as a controlling asshole. “I want you to stay.” Harvey nearly whispers.

Mike pauses. He’s been so angry lately – at his father, the situation. He's been feeling so lost and more alone than he's felt since his parents death, it's made him lose sight of what he'd gained since this all began; and while Harvey may be a bit more heavy-handed with his version of tough love than Mike would like, they’ve finally admitted that it is just that; love, and this has always been Harvey's way of showing it. 

And suddenly Mike wants to smile at the obvious effort Harvey put into uttering those two sentences. It's endearing, and Mike makes a conscious decision to diffuse the situation. “You want me to stay, like when you mentioned gagging me my first time out or…”

Thanking whatever deity blessed him with probably the only person on earth that seems to understand him without explanation or expectation, Harvey exhales slowly, gratefully pulling Mike close. “Stay. Please.”

The pleading tone in Harvey’s voice sounds so foreign to Mike’s ears he suddenly finds himself craving the normalcy of the intrepid attorney he’s grown to depend on.

“Okay...” Mike mumbles, face pressed firmly against Harvey’s broad chest. “But only because I know your condo doesn’t have a basement.” 

“Of course it does." Harvey grins, breathing easier knowing that Mike just majorly clued him in on navigating some of the rockier aspects of their new relationship by subtly pointing out all he has to do to soothe Mike is soften his already refined arrogance just a bit rather than brandishing his emotions like bipolar projectiles. "It’s just not private. Now, why don’t we sit down and finish eating.”

“I’m good,” Mike replies, freeing himself from Harvey and scraping his plate before putting his dishes in the sink. “Actually, if you don’t mind I think I’m going to take a shower. Do you have something I can borrow to wear to bed?”

“You sure you don’t want some more?” Harvey asks, trying to figure out if Mike's cheekbones have always been so pronounced. “Something different, maybe?”

“I’m good, Harvey. Really.”

“You haven’t eaten much.”

“Yeah, I guess I generally don’t. The one time Trevor would offer to pick up the tab.” He laughs lightly. “It makes so much sense in hindsight.”

“Mike.” Harvey closes the distance between them, placing a hand on the blond’s shoulder; his grip he hopes, firm enough to be reassuring and gentle enough to be supportive. “This is too much for you to handle on your own, but I was wrong to think I had the right to interfere.”

Harvey is pleased to feel the slim body press in close against his own, soft blond hair nestled tight under his chin. Slowly, Harvey embraces Mike back, the body in his arms seeming smaller, frailer than the day before, as if all the emotional trauma is finally beginning to take it’s toll, which is exactly what Harvey had been afraid of.

They separate at the same time, but Mike remains close enough to bump his nose against Harvey’s. “I’m on your side, Mike.” Harvey reassures his boy.

Mike’s eyes are tired, but there’s a grateful gleam shimmering in the bright blue depths, like those three little words from Harvey are all it will take to have everything work out in the end. It’s a terrifying prospect for Harvey to have so much trust placed in him, but he doesn’t lie – not to clients, and never to Mike.

Hooking a finger under Mike's chin, Harvey moves forward until their lips meet in a soft, unhurried kiss that ends with all tension leaving Mike’s body in the form of a drawn-out shuddering sigh. “Now go on. There should be some sweats in the bottom dresser drawer. I’ll put the food in the fridge and be in shortly.”

As Mike disappears into the bedroom, Harvey quickly reaches for his phone that’s been on silent, vibrating behind him on the dining room table. “Vanessa. Make it quick.”

“Well good evening to you, too, Harvey.”

“I don’t have much time, so whatever you’re about to tell me better be good.”

“Fair enough,” the voice on the other side of the line agrees. “But I really doubt this is going to brighten your mood. So, James Ross – No arrests, by all accounts pretty average scholastically, but dedicated to his work. Initially he majored in Philosophy and minored in Psychology…”

“All of this I already know and not worth the money I’m paying you.”

“That is-” Vanessa interrupts. “Until he met one Nina Walker, the future Mrs. Ross. This is where things get interesting.”

Mike’s mother being mentioned sends all the blood rushing from his head and Harvey finds himself having to sit down, praying this can’t possibly get any worse. He checks to hear the shower start running and moves farther into the apartment. “Tell me.”

“Around the time they start dating, Ross’ scholastic ambitions seem to abruptly veer off Philosophy, and he becomes fixated on all aspects of Psychology.”

“But they started dating years before Mike was born,” Harvey says more to himself.

“I found that odd, too. Given this kids a prodigy, I would think discovering you’re raising the next Stephen Hawking would be the springboard for someone with so much vested in the study of cognitive function to re-invent himself,” the PI agrees, “but going by his academic transcripts it was at least a year into their courtship he made his first formal request to the University to foot the bill, allowing him to incorporate intensive course studies in cognitive psychology, clinical, biopsychology, abnormal psychology, you name it - all to complete his PhD in Psychology while still working as an assistant professor of Philosophy.”

“But if not for Mike, then why the sudden change?”

The silence on the other end of the line has Harvey’s hear racing. Vanessa’s not the type of person to pull punches. “Vanessa, tell me.”

“Suicide is a hereditary trait in the Walker family line.”

“Who?” Harvey demands, shaken.

“Nina’s grandfather and her younger brother. Nina started showing sighs of chronic depression from an early age. Therapists, prescriptions, even a stay at the New York Psychiatric Institute.”

Harvey’s mind is reeling, wondering if Mike had any idea of this side of his family history – hell, if he knew he’d had an uncle to begin with. “Fuck.”

“It seems through extensive investigating, James found out about a groundbreaking study in New Zealand, still in it’s infancy. They received a large endowment toward proving the possibility of isolating specific genetic markers in people prone to depression or had multiple documented suicides in their family line – the hope was to be able to predict which people would be more prone to depression in order to take early action.”

“Let me guess who supplied the funding…”

“You got it. The IBRA. From there, James began his foray into researching more unorthodox methods of treatment of the disease, presumably spurred on by the discovery that mainstream research was no longer his only avenue of exploration. But it remained mostly in the library for quite a few years, with a controversial article published here and there in some obscure journals. It wasn't until your boy was in pull-ups, though that he started making professional inquiries and-”

“Connected with Ellis,” Harvey fills in.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Harvey. Will you shut up and let me finish?”

“Vanessa…” Harvey warns.

“Fine. I’m sending you an attachment.”

Harvey slips into the next room just off the guest room and logs into his personal computer. When he opens the attachment he’s perplexed by what he finds. “Medical records? What am I looking at here, Vanessa?”

“Jack-knifed tractor trailer and a multi-car pile up on some main road in bum-fuck New York. Mike was hit by a car but according to the police report there’s no mention of a vehicle registered to the Ross’ or anyone else connected to them. Details are suspiciously vague regarding Mike’s involvement, just that he was hit and there were fatalities, and I got most of that information from an archived article from a local paper.”

“I thought I told you specifically not to look into Mike any farther than you had when I first hired him.”

“I go where the evidence takes me, Harvey. Pay close attention to the date of the accident.”

“It coincides with the dates of the camp by weeks. I don’t get it. How does all of this fit together?” Harvey mutters to himself.

“Conjecture’s not my area, councilor. But I’ll call you if I come across anything else.”

“Thanks Vanessa.”

“Goodnight, Harvey.”

After Harvey ends the call he leans back in his chair, reading through the accident report. Mike's injuries are thankfully few; save for a concussion, and a wound on his arm so deep it couldn't be stitched, and required several weeks of follow up ER visits and a visiting nurse to treat, the rest is mostly scrapes and bruises. But for the life of him, Harvey still can’t see a connection between the accident and his father handing him over to a monster like Ellis.

He feels slightly nauseous and imagines Mike must have been feeling like this for the past few days, which would explain his disinterest in eating. Sleeping too seems to be directly related to sheer exhaustion and Harvey’s proximity. Shutting down his computer, he makes his way into the bedroom just as the shower is turned off.

He knows he has to tell Mike that he’d put a call in to Vanessa to investigate his father, though he’s pretty sure Mike’s not going to get pissed off about that. He’s more worried about bringing up the boy’s mother. Up until this point, all the information they’d been concentrating on dealt with his father, and supposition. But bringing his mother into this; telling Mike that she’d been suffering mental illness - he’s not so sure how that’s going to go down.

Shedding his clothing, he slips into a pair of loose cotton sleep pants and climbs into bed just as Mike comes sauntering out of the shower in all his glory, roughly rubbing a towel through his hair dripping wet hair. Though he really just wants to drink the sight in, he can't help that his eyes are instantly drawn to a patch of puckered, discolored skin just to the outside of Mike’s left elbow.

“I changed my mind.” The blond announces, tosses the towel over his shoulder breaking Harvey from his trance.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Harvey concentrates Mike’s impish smile. “What did you change your mind about?”

Pulling back the goose down quilt, Mike shimmies under the blanket and presses his damp warm skin against the full length of Harvey’s body. “First. Bite,” Mike demands.

Harvey trails his hand from Mike’s round backside, across the defined dip in his lower back and up to the back of his neck, where he plunders the boy’s mouth while using the position to flip Mike over. Unashamedly, he takes in Mike’s stretched out body, from his ridiculously long feet, muscular calves and thighs, to his blood filled erection laying stiffly across his tight, flat belly. His eyes drift over Mike’s broad, sparsely haired chest to his tiny pebbled nipples tinted in that same insanely bright shade of pink as his lush lips.

“What are you doing?” Mike blushes after almost a full minute of silent appraisal.

“Deciding where I want to bite you.” Harvey breathes deeply caressing the exposed flesh that, warmed from the shower, smells comfortingly of Mike wrapped up in his own shampoo and body wash.

Mike’s body is perfect. He is on the slim side and not overly cut, but he’s definitely healthy. The slightness of his frame right now only serves to make him look younger than he actually is, though that’s still much younger than Harvey; and that’s apparently a new kink Harvey’s developed because his past male bed-mates had tended toward darker features; chiseled builds, cut biceps and six packs - just the right amount of rough to assure Harvey a wild night and a few new welcomed bruises in the morning.

But Mike seems to be in league all of his own with his compact frame wrapped in deliciously pale flesh, firm but soft in all the right places, and an innocence that radiates trust and dependance that hits Harvey in all the right - and wrong places.

Leaning down, he takes one of those perfect pink nubs between his teeth and nips sharply, causing Mike to arch off the bed and further into his arms, just where he belongs.

Harvey pulls away to see Mike’s eyes dazed, pupils impossibly large, only a slight ring of blue visible in the lust filled depths. Harvey smirks. “What did you lie about?” He says into the crook of Mike’s neck, loving that his boy is so sensitive his body shivers from the contact.

“I don’t need anything to wear to bed.” 

“Nothing?” One arm under Mike’s shoulder’s cradling him against his chest, the other wrapped around his waist bringing their groins together, Harvey undulates his hips against Mike’s, as Mike slides his flattened palms underneath the elastic of Harvey’s bottoms pushing his pants down just enough to feel skin, but his wrists are quickly snatched, hands pinned against the pillows to the either side of his head.

“I don’t get to touch?” Mike pouts, not noticing that Harvey’s hands have slid from around his wrists, moving across the underside of his forearms toward his elbows. With one finger, Harvey gently runs the pad of his finger against the scar.

Kissing the soft skin on the underside of Mike’s elbow joint, he turns Mike’s arm as if noticing the scar for the first time. “What’s this from?” He asks, continuing the gentle thrusting of his hips, hoping for distraction.

“Uh…” Mike trembles as Harvey runs the point of his tongue across the sharp plain of Mike’s collarbone to his shoulder where he peppers the flesh with light kisses. “B-bike. I think.” Mike stammers, his eyes fluttering. "You want to go Lethal Weapon 3? You can be Riggs. Lorna Cole was pretty badass," he begins rambling. "We'll compare our scars and..." Mike trails off, as he takes in the serious look on Harvey's face. "What? You can't tell me you didn't like Lethal Weapon 3."

"No. It's just," Harvey takes a deep breath. "Bike, you think?"

"Huh?" Mike sits up. "What are you talking about?"

"Mike. You don't forget anything. That scar..." Harvey takes Mike's arm and again gently caresses the raised tissue. "It must have been one hell of a wound." Harvey prompts.

"I guess..." Mike turns his arm and looks at the skin. "I don't... It was an accident." Mike's surprised that the phrase just falls from his lips unprompted. He looks up at Harvey, eyes wide. "I don't remember..." He looks at his arm again before looking back to Harvey.

"It's like the word accident is the first thing my brain supplies, but Harvey... I don't remember." He swallows hard and Harvey can see Mike's beginning to panic.

"Mike. Calm down." Harvey presses his palms to Mike's face forcing terrified blue eyes back to him. "It's okay."

"No. It's not," Mike's voice breaks, his breathing way too fast. "What made you ask about it, Harvey? What do you know?"

"Okay," Harvey soothes. "I'll tell you, but first you have to calm down." 

"Just fuckin' tell me!" Mike chokes. 

"Okay.” Harvey presses his lips against Mike’s temple, whispering in his ear. “I'll be right back, all right?" Mike ignores him, but after a momentary pause to assure himself Mike's not going to freak out, Harvey retreats to the dining room to retrieve his new laptop. When he returns to the bedroom, Mike is twisting his arm every which way trying to get a better look a mark that's been on his body since he remember, and yet has no idea how it got there.

Harvey settles back down opening up the attachment. "I had Vanessa look into your father." Harvey lets that statement sit for a minute. When Mike doesn't react except to nod, Harvey now can't tell if it's because that's the reaction he'd expected or because Mike's in shock.

"She sent me this." He sets the laptop on Mike's thighs and watches the blond's face intently as he studies the information. It's just the medical records. He keeps the police report and newspaper article tucked away in his saved mail folder not ready to show that to Mike until he can gauge his reaction and get some answers first.

"Okay. Okay," Mike repeats himself, nodding. "A concussion." His voice sounds utterly rational but the stark terror on his face alarms Harvey, and he's two seconds from calling Donna realizing this was probably a very bad idea. "I had a concussion, right? That's why it's fuzzy. That makes sense. Right?" Mike's voice is borderline hysterical. 

"Right." Harvey agrees, immediately pulling the laptop away and setting it on the nightstand. "That makes sense. A grade II concussion can cause a short period of amnesia. I'm sorry I brought it up. It's just that I haven't had much luck with finding anything on Ellis so I thought-"

"I don't remember meeting Eva, either, Harvey," Mike interrupts, confused but less like he's about to come apart like before. "I went to see Eva Mendez today and she mentioned meeting me. And I don't remember that. I remember her badge number, he voice, her eyes. I remember the stories she told me... but I don't remember actually meeting her."

Harvey wraps his arms around Mike pulling him back to front against his chest. "It'll be okay, Mike." Harvey whispers, his lips brushing gently against a delicate earlobe. "Losing time or memories is common with a traumatic injury." He doesn't fill in the phrase childhood trauma, which is something he's beginning to suspect. While what he's telling Mike is factually accurate - a concussion is classified as a traumatic brain injury after all, he now knows there's much more. "Given you’re used to perfect recall it’s understandable to be so thrown, but we'll figure it out, okay?"

Mike is trembling in his arms, still making the occasional abrupt attempt to look at his arm again until Harvey's hand settles over his. "Mike." Harvey places gentle kisses to Mike's temple as he shifts Mike enough that he's lying down against him. With one arm loosely pinning both of Mike's to his side, more like cradling, he reaches up and switches off the bedside lamp and begins and gentle stroking motion up and down Mike’s arms until he starts to settle. "Go to sleep," he whispers soothing supportive words over and over; softer and softer until Mike gives in to his emotional exhaustion and the blond goes lax against him.

Harvey sighs, considering the puckered patch of raised skin under his finger and buries his nose in Mike's hair, allowing muted sound of Mike's breathing to flow over him and soothe his fraying nerves.

*****

It's early when Harvey awakens the next morning to find himself in the same upright position from the night before. There's a crick in his neck and an empty space in the bed next to him. The bathroom door is ajar and through the crack he can see Mike studying the back of his arm in the mirror. With a resigned sigh, he climbs out of bed and comes to stand behind the younger man. Their eyes meet in the mirror, and Harvey brings his hand to rest over the scar. 

  “I’m so tired of this and it hasn’t even begun, has it.” Mike states quietly.

More than anything, Harvey wants to reassure the boy, but the truth is Mike's probably right, so he settles for wrapping his around the slim shoulders and hold him tight.

"You should never go to bed with your hair wet," Harvey tuts trying to mash down the blond chaos of spikes on Mike's head. “Take a shower and I’ll see what we've got in the way of food. You must be starving."

Mike looks up into Harvey’s eyes, and raises an eyebrow. “I could really go for some breakfast. How about you?”

“Subtle.” Harvey smiles, taking Mike by the hand and leading him directly into the shower stall where he starts the water, a little distraction sounding like an excellent idea. “For someone that hardly eats you're awfully interested in breakfast.”

"What can I say, you've spoiled me." Harvey shivers as Mike presses their bodies together, head to toe under the steaming spray. Their arms wrap around each other, though somewhere along the way Harvey manages to grab a soapy washcloth and is methodically rubbing it over Mike’s shoulders and back, while his lips work effortlessly across the younger man’s.

Mike runs his palm along the dip where Harvey’s back dips before rising in the swell of his ass and Harvey actually growls. Gently he urges Mike around to face the spray and continues to soap and rinse Mike’s chest, belly, cock and balls; his lips maintaining skin on skin contact across slender shoulders, back and the base of Mike’s neck making sure to keep him relaxed. 

“My turn?” Mike asks a bit meekly, taking the washcloth to return the favor.

“Go for it. ” Harvey prompts, arms open in invitation, a small barely visible smile on his lips as he feels Mike tentatively begin to explore him.

Long bare fingers encircle Harvey's shaft while Mike works the soapy cloth shallowly up and down the crease of Harvey's ass. Once he opens his mouth and begins suckling on a nipple, it only takes a few strokes until Harvey's gone; thrusting forward, head thrown back arms braced against Mike’s shoulders as he loses it embarrassingly quickly, cumming in powerful spurts across Mike's wrist and belly. When he finally comes back to himself, he looks down to see droplets of his own cum clinging to Mike's wet pubic hair and the sight undoes him. 

"Fuck. You are going to be the death me," Harvey murmurs as he drops to his knees and licks his own cum from Mike's pubic hair. When he's done, he move on to Mike's balls taking them gently into his mouth, thoroughly bathing them with tongue before moving to lick up the long stiff shaft. He's got Mike's hips firmly in hand, and he can see by the rise and fall of Mike's belly that the boy's breathing hard, but he also notices he's barely making a sound. Risking a look up through his eyelashes he's met, not by Mike's lust slackened face like he expects but by something akin to outright shock. Stopping is not something he feels like doing, but slowly he pulls off Mike's cock. "What?"

"You're just..." Mike reaches down and traces Harvey's swollen lips with his fingers, then through Harvey's slicked back hair and without hesitation adds a little pressure. Harvey chuckles as he takes the hint and continues where he left off. "Fuckin' amazing..."

Harvey supposes at some point he'll explain to Mike that while he's always played for both teams, he's never actually been with any one man long enough to get this comfortable, nor had he ever wanted to. And though it might sound a little coercive, he likes the fact that he feels like he's in total control with Mike and can explore his own deepest desires without feeling embarrassed. And given Mike's reactions so far, he has a feeling it's not something he's going to have to worry about.

He turns the water off and throws a towel at Mike while grabbing one for himself; the move is so Harvey, Mike relaxes further looking a bit more like himself though Harvey knows it’s the farthest thing from the truth. “I was serious about breakfast, though.”

“We can pick up a bagel on the way into the office,” Mike suggests.

“No. I never send my bed partners off without feeding them. That would be ungentlemanly. And I feel like I’ve been offering you breakfast for days and not actually making it.”

“All of your bed partners?” Mike asks, a bit of humor in his voice. “Is that all I am to you? A bed partner?”

“My last bed partner.” Harvey clarifies, mollifying his associate's unasked question. “But breakfast won’t always be on offer. At least not every morning – there won’t be enough time.”

“Wait. Which breakfast are we talking about,” Mike asks, his sleep deprived brain unable to keep up with the double-entendres anymore.

“The one I’m going to cook for you right now.”

“Oh. That’s the one I was really looking forward to, you know.” Mike grumbles, feigning disappointment -- a bit too well apparently, because Harvey is behind him in an instant running his own towel vigorously through Mike’s hair.

“Right. Get dressed before we’re late for work.” Harvey slaps Mike’s ass.

Mike wanders into the bedroom. “Harvey, we have like 45 minutes before we have to leave. How could we possibly be…” He turns to see Harvey staring at the light red hand print on his ass cheek. “Oh. Really?”

Now Harvey is the one tossing the towel over his should and throwing Mike down on the bed, pressing their damp skin together. His fingers trail across the heated flesh and he smiles when Mike winces. “Really. They’re called morning meetings, Mike. You still have so much to learn.”

***

“Harvey,” Jessica enters the named partner’s office shooting a pointed look at his young associate expecting him to scurry out of her way without needing to be told. It’s a talent she has proudly cultivated over the years, but instead of leaving, Mike, who has apparently developed immunity to her presence since being exposed to her, first looks to Harvey for permission, much to her annoyance.

“Go. I’ll call for you in a bit. For lunch.” Mike raises an eyebrow, but Harvey’s stern glare tells him he actually means to stuff him to the gills again with food and rubs his still aching stomach sympathetically.

“Jessica,” Mike nods respectfully before taking his leave.

Once he’s gone, Jessica sighs deeply. “That boy has balls.” She’s going for righteous indignation, but Harvey can see the amusement glinting in her eyes.

“He respects you, Jessica. He’s just more afraid of me.” Harvey doesn’t even attempt to hide his grin. Mike’s oblivious, yet respectful disregard for rank has always been one of the reasons he was drawn to Mike in the first place. “Besides,” Harvey tries for a little flattery, because it is his forte. “He responds better to older woman.”

“You mean all I had to do to keep in line this whole time was hire him a nanny?” Jessica scoffs. “Harvey,” her tone takes on a serious note. “We have to talk.”

“Just give me the highlight reel,” he sighs.

He’s been treading lightly with Mike all morning unable to find an opportune moment to bring up the the rest of the information Vanessa dropped on him the night before about Mike's mother, and the accident. He feels shitty about keeping it a secret after promising him they'd do this together, but with Mike's revelation about his memories followed by his near meltdown he's put it off, wondering if he's getting in over his head. With Mike out of the office for a least a few hours he mentally justifies holding off a bit longer to sit down with Donna and talk this out, because at the moment he's considering getting Mike some professional help, though he seriously doubts suggesting Mike go see a psychologist at this point is the brightest of ideas. 

“I don’t know if you’re going to consider it highlights, but the short story is the IBRA are going to offer Pierce a deal.”

Jessica sits down gracefully, but it’s obvious a heavy weight is resting on her shoulders. “He returns every dime and Pierce walks, his record clean.”

Harvey stands slowly. Truth is he’d been expecting this. There’s no way a profitable organization with the kind of reputation the IBRA has within the scientific community, wouldn’t jump at the chance to get their money back without drawing any unnecessary attention.

With his hands in his pockets Harvey turns to stare out the window. “Because they don’t want any more bad press, and they're nervous about the implications should Mike's story come to light –" Harvey says aloud. "Which we can’t really prove anyway because we don’t have any concrete evidence that can point to Pierce being directly involved, only indirectly providing financial backing... And without the knowledge of the IBRA. Leverage and plausible deniability.”

Harvey swipes his hand vigorously across his face. “I have something...” He begins, knowing he can trust Jessica with the information, but still feeling responsible and overprotective of his associate. “I’m not sure if it has anything to do directly with Ellis, but there's no such thing as coincidence as far as I'm concerned. Thing is," Harvey continues haltingly. "I can’t pursue it without involving Mike… I made him a promise.” By the conspiratorial smile on the formidable woman’s face, Harvey knows his mentor is holding back. “You didn’t chase Mike out of here because the IBRA are caving,” he states.

“And if you were really that smart, Harvey you would already know I was three steps ahead of you. As usual.” She slaps a black file on Harvey’s desk. “I reached out to Vanessa, too. She’s paid by the way.”

“You looked it over?” And the slight nod, Harvey turns away again. “So what do you make of it?”

“Well, at first glance nothing and every nightmarish scenario I could possibly imagine. It’s obvious there’s a connection, but I can see we’re not going to find it in old news-clippings. Did you ask Mike about it?”

“I showed him the medical records and he had a meltdown. Apparently he doesn’t even remember it happening.”

He's never seen Jessica blindsided before, but from the unfamiliar expression on the older woman’s face he imagines this is what it would look like. “He doesn’t remember…”

“He said he doesn’t remember quite a few things from that time and I’m – he…”

“Mike Ross doesn’t remember. That’s all you had to say, Harvey. Like I said, I didn’t think we’d get the answers we were looking for from news-clippings and old medical files.”

Harvey spins back around. “What did you do?”

“I called Bosch to see if he had any documentation from when the accusations first came to light.”

“And?”

“And he said he’d turn them over. He claims Ellis’ statements reconcile with what the people we’ve been able to interview claim; Ellis was a good doctor, and a decent man that seemed to genuinely want to help them. I’m having the documents sent over regardless, but I’m not putting too much stock in what they say considering their source.” Jessica inhales deeply then very firmly announces, “so… I called the man himself.”

“You did what?” Harvey grabs for the file but Jessica calmly places her hand over the folder.

“Harvey, things between you and Mike Ross have always been” she hesitates looking for the right word. “Complicated. But you said you made him a promise and I know you’re a man of your word. So before I give anything else away I need to check some facts. Harvey-” Jessica begins, her tone serious. “I think we have to bring Ellis in.”

“For what?” Harvey nearly flies off the handle. “After what he’s done, what’s he going to do? Apologize? Lay all this on Mike’s dead father because he can’t defend himself? I know you’re not overly fond of him, Jessica, but I am and I’m not going to let you tear him down!”

“Tear him down? Harvey, I got this information because no matter how I feel about Ross’ situation here at the firm, he is still one of ours and we protect our own. Our own, Harvey. If you’d stop behaving like a Neanderthal, marking your territory, ready to take a club to anyone that so much as looks at your associate sideways you’d realize we are all in this. I hear Louis spent last weekend digging up half the concrete information we do have on this goddamned camp in the first place. In his free time. With no incentives, Harvey. I think the best way to get to the bottom of this is to depose Ellis ourselves. On our terms.”

Harvey had been so adamant about keeping Ellis away from Mike, he hadn’t even considered getting the man on the other side of the table from him doing what he does best, and though he’s loath to put Mike through this, he knows he can’t keep it from him.

“You mentioned Louis went above and beyond to get this information and that we protect our own. And you? Where do you fit into this?” Harvey’s voice is gravely, but not quite humbled by his mentor's speech.

“I’ve made no secret of how I feel about Ross’ lack of a degree, Harvey. But I’m not heartless. I had Mike Ross investigated too, after I’d agreed to let him stay. I’ll admit-” Poised, but only just, Jessica takes a moment to compose her self before continuing. “I can’t imagine how he’s turned out to be the man he is today with all the shit he’s had to deal with in his life. And I’m not going to let the absence of a few pieces of paper take away from the fact that that boy is probably the most brilliant, forgiving and good hearted soul I have ever met and if someone hurt him when he was a child – possibly setting off the series of events that led him to fuck up his life so badly…. Then I am sure as hell going to do what I can to make that person pay.”

Jessica stands up to take her leave when she pins the smiling Harvey with a stern glare. “And that is never to leave this room. For now you don’t really have anything to new to share with him, so you’re keeping your promise. I will get back to you when I’m ready to set something up with Ellis. We can meet him on neutral turf or here. Whether or not you let Ross know – that’s up to you.”

Harvey continues to smile as she glides out of his office with a parting ‘never’ to a smirking Donna.

***


	9. Chapter 9

Sitting down at his computer, ear buds pushed into place Mike begins scrolling through his music library. Just as he settles on The Constellations there’s a knock on his cubicle wall drawing his attention to an incredibly insincere smile.

 

“Ross.”

 

“Greg.” Mike greets wearily.

 

“Yeah, Ross listen,” the brunette begins, arms folded and hanging over the divider invading the blond’s space. And Mike braces himself for another round of Mike Ross brain bingo.

 

“The rookie dinner – how much did that set you back?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Just curious.” The brunette glances around at his fellow associates, all snickering and grinning wildly.

 

“Greg,” Harold scolds from his desk. “It was a nice night. How much he spent in comparison to your rookie dinner – which was mediocre, by the way, is irrelevant.”

 

“Thanks Harold. But that’s not why he’s asking.”

 

Mike takes another swallow of coffee hoping it will help fight back the pounding in his head that’s been building all morning. This is the eighth time since the IBRA debacle began he’s been cornered and quizzed on random nonsensical facts by Greg alone, much less other partners and associates in the firm and it’s beginning to take it’s toll.

 

Missy Deetler; someone he’s hardly said two words to in all the time he’s worked at the firm wanted to know if he could recall what she was wearing three weeks ago Thursday, the afternoon Gil Anderson asked her out so she could purchase a similar outfit at lunch seeing as it had impressed the man so much the first time around. 

 

He did of course.

 

Benjamin hadn’t set up any elaborate tests for him, but had recounted the story of their first meeting to his counterparts down in IT prompting them to join in the fray, ambushing Mike in the hallways having him memorize and regurgitate computer code and pop culture references for their awe and amusement. 

 

Even Rachael asked him if he remembered exactly what time it was when they’d met and the first words he’d said to her. That, he correctly assumed was her way of stroking her own ego as they both know perfectly well he’d blurted ‘you’re pretty,’ once she’d done her perfunctory introduction to the firm. He suspects she's not as over him as she pretends to be now that she's taken up playing house with Logan Sanders.

 

Harold’s constant need to be reminded of his own password to the secure server, Mike remembers by choice as Louis has adamantly promised to fire the redhead if he gets locked out of the system one more time.

 

But Gregory seems to have taken it as a personal challenge to wind or trip the wunderkind up by picking obscure absurdities to throw at him at random for his own twisted delight. “Just over ten thousand.” Mike mumbles.

 

“No. I mean exactly.” Greg smirks.

 

“Ten thousand six hundred fifty-eight dollars and forty cents.” Mike spouts. It’s almost like a sickness, the way he can’t not answer when the information is there on the tip of his tongue. It’s always been that way. He can’t help himself.

 

“Nice.” Greg whistles. “What did you tip?”

 

“Greg,” Mike sighs. “Could we do this some other time?”

 

“Come on, man. How much?”

 

Mike closes his eyes picturing the receipt. Harvey was pretty generous. “Just over seventeen hundred.”

 

“No. Exactly.” Greg prods.

 

“One thousand seven hundred twelve dollars and twenty cents.”

 

“Amazing as it is,” Greg leans in close, his moist, coffee scented breath ghosting across Mike’s ear. “It’s kind of creepy that you can do that.”

 

“No.” A booming voice comes from behind them as Louis struts over. “What’s amazing is that I obviously don’t give you enough work seeing that you’re over here playing games when I know I gave you a twelve million dollar merger to go over not an hour ago. I take it it’s done then, Mr. Boone?”

 

“Uh, no, Louis.” Greg looks around to the other associates for some back up but of course they are all studiously typing away at their computers. “No, I… It’s just since Mike did such an amazing job catching the discrepancies between listed assets and potential assets on the Bainbridge briefs, I though maybe he could go over my work and see if I missed anything."

 

“Ah yes, the Bainbridge briefs. Another task I assigned you that you passed on to Ross. Tell me something, Boone, if Ross is doing all your work, and by your own admission, better than you, then why is the firm paying you a salary?”

 

“I didn’t… I don’t” the pompous prick stammers.

 

Louis looks over at Mike expecting to see him reclining back in his chair wearing that ridiculous smirk he’s picked up from spending too much time with Harvey, but instead he notices Mike looks pale and drawn, not even paying attention the ribbing Gregory’s getting on his behalf. His elbow on his desk, The blond has his head in hand, fingers jammed into his hairline as he diligently scribbles notes on a legal pad.

 

“Gregory, back to work. Mike…” Louis barks. When the boy doesn’t look up Louis edges closer. “Mike!” He calls again.

 

The blond looks around a bit dazed. “I’m sorry Louis. What did you say?”

 

Concerned, Louis straightens. “With me.”

 

“But Louis, I have…”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Louis is already walking away bellowing “bring it,” in his wake.

 

Catching the highlighters as they roll off the stack of files he swiped off his desk, Mike scurries after him. “Louis. I have a lot of work to do. And I'm actually not feeling so hot. Isn’t there another associate-”

 

He stops short almost plowing into the shorter man as Louis holds open his office door and points to the couch. “Work here.” He orders.

 

"On what?"

 

"On whatever it is Harvey has you doing."

 

Mike looks at the sofa then back to Louis, shaking his head in confusion as if the older man is speaking a foreign language.

 

“It’s quiet." Louis explains patiently. "No one will bother you.” He stops, watching Mike as he stands staring at the sofa, still as a statue even as his favored yellow highlighter finally escapes, rolling off his briefs, bouncing across the rug, ignored. “Just… stay.” Louis sighs turning away, pulling the door shut behind him.

 

OOooOO

 

Donna closes the door behind her and takes a seat across from her boss. Having only overheard one side of the conversation, most importantly Jessica’s declaration to protect Mike as one of their own, Donna is left with the strangest combination of pride in her firm and an unease in the pit of her stomach. “So that was unexpected.”

 

Harvey’s silence overrides her pride. “Harvey, just how bad is this?”

 

“I almost called you last night,” he finally admits quietly, handing her his laptop. Waiting until she’s through the police report and scrolling through the medical records, he continues.

 

“He has this scar…” Harvey can still feel a ghost of the tight raised skin against the pad of his fingertips. “How can Mike not remember?”

 

“What did he say?” 

 

Harvey shakes his head. “He said it was an accident; maybe on his bike, but it was almost as if he was programmed to say that.” Harvey closes his eyes, bridge of his nose pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “I know how that sounds…” He trails off. “He was in a state of panic. I told him it was probably because of the concussion-”

 

“But you don’t believe that.”

 

“Not entirely, no. There are too many gaps in his memory. It seems to span over years, not just this one instance.”

 

“You’re thinking it was intentional.” Harvey doesn’t answer, but turns to look out the window, hands fisted tightly in his lap. “What does he think?”

 

“I didn’t ask.” Harvey shakes his head. “I was…” Afraid, too chicken-shit… “Only able to calm him down because he’s just so damn exhausted. He was hysterical - passed out after nearly hyperventilating. He hasn’t been sleeping. He doesn’t think I know he’s up half the night. When he’s not staring at the ceiling, he’s sitting in the living room looking over all the documents again and again.”

 

“What’s the rest of it?” Donna asks, returning the laptop. Because she knows there’s more.

 

“Apparently his mother suffered from severe depression. As far as I can tell, that was the catalyst that spurred Mike’s father on to connect with Ellis and the IBRA in the first place, not Mike. But I don’t know if Mike knows or how this,” he gestures toward the computer. “Connects.”

 

“And you don’t want to bring it up.” She assess gently.

 

“You weren’t there last night.” Harvey remembers the despair on Mike’s face, the imploring look in his eyes seeking answers Harvey didn’t have, comfort the only thing he could offer. “This is way over my head, Donna.” The usually confident man’s voice is quiet.

 

The fact that Donna only nods does nothing to belay Harvey’s fears. “This goes way past hand holding and hugs, and I haven’t even been doing that right. I’m going to mess this up.” There’s bite of anger building in Harvey’s tone – his helplessness once again materializing in fury.

 

“There’s no wrong way to comfort someone, Harvey. Like I said before, Mike knows who you are. And this? This goes way beyond the norm for anyone. If he needs something from you, you just have to have faith in him that he’ll ask because you can’t be expected to know. All you need to do is let him know that you’ll be here for him.”

 

“I know. And I haven’t. I’ve been yelling at him for no other reason than I’m pissed at the situation and hoping he’ll figure it out like he always does. We’re using sex as a distraction so he doesn’t have to think about what’s happening and I’m letting it happen because I don’t know what else to do.” He sighs. “I just want to be able to take him out to dinner, or watch a movie - buy him some nice things so he’s not hanging around in those rags he calls clothes. If anyone deserves to be spoiled a little, it's him. For Christ sake after everything he’s been through…”

 

“So spoil him. What’s stopping you? Take him out. Buy him something pretty,” she agrees.

 

“I already did.” Harvey says handing her a slip of paper, unable to meet the redhead’s eyes as she unfolds the receipt. “It should be ready to be picked up.”

 

“Harvey… Is this-”

 

“No!” He says quickly. “It’s just… a little something.”

 

“David Yurman. Nice. What is it?”

 

“It’s a cobra link titanium bracelet. Nothing romantic or anything.”

 

“Right.” Donna agrees quickly, her eyes glued to the twelve hundred dollar total. Not romantic at all. “I’ll take care of it.”

 

From the dark smudges beneath Harvey’s eyes it’s obvious Mike isn’t the only one that hasn’t been sleeping, and Donna knows it’s time for her to step up and relieve Harvey of some of his burden. But before she has a chance to say anything, Harvey’s desk phone buzzes, the LCD displaying Jessica’s personal extension.

 

“Jessica… And he agreed, just like that.” Harvey straightens in his chair; posture as sharp as his finely tailored suit. “No, set it up. I don’t… How long?” He eyes his secretary, the familiar self-assured confidence slipping back into place for the first time in days. “Don’t worry, I’ll get him out of the building.”

 

Harvey hangs up the phone eyeing Donna’s outstretched hand curiously. “Give me your AMEX, and have Louis redistribute Mike’s workload so he doesn’t fall behind.”

 

“Don’t you want to know-”

 

“Ellis agreed to be deposed. He’s on his way in and you want Mike out of the building. It’s not a stretch, Harvey. You said you wanted to buy him something nice, anyway. Now hurry up,” the redhead snaps. “You don’t want him to settle in. You know how he…” She twirls her finger in the air, “spaces when he gets into the zone.”

 

Harvey smirks at the apt description and retrieves his credit card from his inside jacket pocket. “What are you going to do?”

 

“Get coffee. And possibly a new handbag, it really depends on how upset he is.” When Harvey doesn’t laugh, Donna sighs. “I’m going to find out if he knew about his mother. And after that I’m going to use your money to pamper him. He’s too exhausted to be of any use right now anyway. Don’t worry, Harvey. I’ll call you if I need you.”

 

“Are you sure?” He asks, not even bothering to argue. He feels like a failure passing this on to her, but at the same time knows she’s probably better equipped to handle the fallout.

 

“Am I ever not?” She challenges. “How long do you need us gone?”

 

“Figure about five or six thousand.”

 

The redhead nods. “Neimans?”

 

“Start at Burberry. If he…” She rolls her eyes. “You can’t find anything he likes, hit Neimans. Just keep him away from that trendy shit.”

 

“No angled hemlines or contrasting stitching. But I’m liking him in the skinny jeans.” Harvey’s pinking cheeks have Donna hiding a smile. “I’ll take that to mean you do too. Got it. Basically a mixture of the ridiculously expensive outfits you insist on only wearing around the condo but keeping in mind you want to occasionally put his assets on display.”

 

Harvey opens his mouth to chastise his assistant’s forwardness, but nods instead. “Exactly. Go now. Jessica said Bosh told him to come first thing. He could be here any time." Head down, Harvey begins scribbling some questions, his frustration evident in his angry scribe. 

 

“You’re not pawning him off, Harvey.” Donna says knowing that’s exactly what he’s thinking. “So don’t even think that, not for minute. You’ve been doing everything right. The fact that you’re admitting you may be a bit out of your depth here is proof that you’re putting his needs above everything else. And I don’t want him near that man any more than you do. Besides,” She adds. “You’ve been hogging him for the last four days – give someone else a turn.” At that he does give a small smile.

 

“Harvey!” The two turn around to see Louis stalking into the room like a man on a mission. “We have to do something about Mike.”

 

Harvey narrows his eyes, zeroing in on the shorter man. “What’s he done to offend your delicate sensibilities this time?”

 

“No. It’s not what he’s done, what’s being done to him.”

 

“What’s being done to him?” Harvey stands adjusting his jacket like soldier donning a suit of armor.

 

“Since this whole eidetic memory thing has exploded everyone around here have gone insane making him quote everything from precedence to poetry. The kid’s a mess.”

 

“Fuck.” Harvey sighs. “He’s sleep deprived, emotionally drained and now this. I swear to Christ I’m firing everyone.”

 

“He needs a break, Harvey.”

 

“I know. I’m working on it.”

 

Louis’ compassion is less surprising to Harvey and Donna than one would think. Though unbearably irritating at the best of times one of Louis’ better qualities is his loyalty towards those he deems worthy of respect; Jessica, Donna, Mike and Harvey himself among those on that short list.

 

“He looks like shit. I put him in my office so no one will bother him.”

 

Harvey nods in approval, stopping just short of saying thank you. There’s very little chance anyone will find him there, glass walls or not, considering only Katrina would willingly go looking for the man.

 

"I came to see about taking him for the day.”

 

“Thank you, Louis, but I don’t think a trip to the firing range will do the trick. Mike’s nerves are frazzled enough as it is.” 

 

“That’s what I do to relieve stress. I was thinking more along the lines of the Setai club for some mudding or an herbal spa package.”

 

“Louis. That’s sweet, but I was about to invite Mike out for a little excursion anyway." Donna smiles. "Is there anything pressing that needs his attention?”

 

Louis dons and evil grin; “nothing Durrant can’t take care of.”

 

“Now that that’s settled,” Harvey chimes in, “Louis, I’m going to need you here anyway. Ellis is coming in and I want all of the information we have on him and the camp such as it is, ready to be used at a moments notice.”

 

“Okay, you two play nice while we’re gone.” Donna feigns fixing her already perfectly styled hair. “I’m going to collect my charge.”

 

OOooOO

 

Feeling a presence in front of him, Mike slowly looks up from his files to see Donna eyeing him keenly.

 

“Donna?” He asks cautiously.

 

“In another partner’s office already, young man? Wait ‘til Harvey hears about this.”

 

Mike laughs, his headache easing a bit just from her familiar disposition alone. “It’s platonic, I swear. I’ve been on the couch the entire time.”

 

“Hmm. Okay. But only because Louis came and told Harvey what was going on.” When Mike averts his eyes she softens her voice. “Mike. Why didn’t you say something?”

 

The blond sighs, reclining against the cushions. “It’s just more of my baggage for him to shoulder? Besides, I’ve been dealing with this sort of thing my whole life. Even Trevor used to treat me like a walking parlor trick. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

 

Donna gives Mike the once over, taking in the bags under his eyes and wrinkles, not only in his suit but against the side of his face where he’s been leaning heavily against his hand. “You’re coming with me.”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Coffee.” She states simply adjusting her handbag.

 

“But I have.” He gestures to the fresh cup he’d absconded from the break room just minutes before.

 

“Did I say you needed coffee?”

 

“No.” Mike smiles weakly, slipping into his jacket. “But I can’t be long. I have a ton of work to catch up on.”

 

“And that’s different from any other day how?” She picks up the files and marches out into the associates’ pool and tosses them on Gregory’s desk on the way past.

 

“Hey. You can’t do that!” The over-privileged brunette whines.

 

“She can if I say she can.” Louis saunters in. Picking three files off the top of the stack and peaking at them. Satisfied with the ones he chose he tosses them onto Harold’s desk. “Now stop whining and act like the Harvard educated lawyer you’re supposed to be.”

 

Mike catches Louis' eery smile as he sweeps by. “This is a bit elaborate for coffee, don’t you think?” Mike raises an eyebrow dubiously.

 

“I… Yeah.” Donna winces. “I was totally lying. My orders were to get you out of the office and drag personal information of you. As for Louis; Well… I never know what drives Louis but considering he went to Harvey insisting you needed a break I’m guessing you haven’t looked in the mirror lately, honey.”

 

Mike suppresses the overwhelming wave of inadequacy that washes over him, as he jogs to catch up to the redhead. Just as she steps onto the elevator and presses the button for the lobby he stops short. “I assume he already knows, but I should tell Harvey I’m leaving. I’ll meet you downstairs,” he yells over his shoulder as he hurries down the hall.

 

“Mike, wait!” Donna calls as the doors to the elevator slide shut.

 

OOooOO

 

Sitting in Harvey’s chair, Jessica sighs trying to focus on her line of questioning but her named partner’s pacing is beginning to wear on her just as much as the carpet. She glances to Louis who just shrugs knowing better than to get involved with Harvey especially when it’s something concerning Mike, so he stays focused on the camp’s financial records trying to see if he can spot any discrepancies before Ellis arrives.

 

“Harvey.”

 

“I know. I don’t like being kept waiting. It’s bad enough you agreed to keep this informal.”

 

“I didn’t say anything,” Jessica responds coolly to Harvey’s defensive reply. “Just settle down before he gets here or you’re going to give him the impression you’re nervous.”

 

“Actually,” a detached voice interjects from the door. “Pacing is a stress response, having more to do with feeling anxious rather than nervous. Anxiety has a stronger connotation that someone has a specific object of concern whereas nervousness implies an impending sense of dread.”

 

‘An object of concern.’

 

Harvey makes a fist, breathing heavily as he turns, meeting Emile Ellis face to face for the first time. While he wasn’t expecting claws and fangs, being that Ellis is the flesh and blood embodiment of a monster, he is surprised to note the man is in actuality exactly what one would imagine when picturing a scientist. He is of average height and appearance, and fit for a man of his advanced age. He’s wearing a suit similar to Kendall’s, not old and worn but definitely dated. His greying hair is freshly cut, but what strikes Harvey most are his eyes – they are soft, kind and inviting, nothing hard or manipulative to be seen.

 

“That?” Ellis points to Harvey’s tightly clenched fist, “is a sign of tension and in this case anger.”

 

“How observant.” Harvey sneers. “If you’d like to study it close up I can definitely accommodate you.”

 

“Harvey.” Jessica warns, a hand around the man’s bicep.

 

“Emile.” Harvey’s eyes shoot to the man stepping out from behind the professor, a hand supportively braced on his arm. “How about we sit down,” he suggests clearly alarmed and not wanting to provoke Harvey further.

 

“I’m not even surprised,” Harvey pins the younger man with a sharp stare, aggressively stepping forward. “How long Kendall? How long have you been feeding Ellis information?” 

 

“Peter reached out to me a week ago when Michael started asking questions about his father.” Ellis answers taking Mike’s seat in front of Harvey’s desk, the younger professor by his side. “I would think – given what Peter has told me, that you would be happy to find he was trying to befriend me to get information for you.”

 

“And I’m just supposed to believe you - either of you. You agreed to come in and fall on your sword. Or are you going to sit there and tell me how James Ross gave you permission to strap his baby to a gurney and pump 450 volts of electricity through his body.”

 

“I assure you, Mr. Specter, you couldn’t be more wrong on either count.” Ellis almost breaks his repose sidetracked by the accusation, but gathers himself rather quickly before continuing. “And by your inaccurate assessment I can tell you’ve gotten most of your information on ECT therapy,” Ellis stresses, “off the Internet. 450 volts is the maximum amperage for an adult in an extreme case. That would be far too much for a child.”

 

Harvey’s blind with rage listening to Ellis speak, his calm demeanor and clinical responses immediately taking him back to thinking about Pierce's similar blase attitude, justifying how they abused Mike .

 

“What you did to Mike is not only against the law, Ellis. He was a child – you tortured him like a lab rat in the name of science!” Harvey snaps. 

 

“I did no such thing, Mr. Specter! I came here of my own free will to clear up misconceptions just like that – if not in my own defense, or advocacy of my field, then for Michael. To try and explain to him what we were trying to accomplish. James and Nina loved that boy with all of their hearts,” he adds vehemently. “And I will not have you sully his memory of them due to inaccurate and incomplete information.”

 

“Michael.” Jessica interjects. “Not James?”

 

“Nina was always very adamant about that.” Ellis smiles fondly. “It was probably the only bone of contention between those two, James and Nina, but Nina always won in the end. James was the only person that insisted on James or Jamie. The rest of us called him Michael.”

 

“You speak as though they were your friends.” Jessica observes, while making a brief note on her legal pad.

 

“We were, Ms. Pearson. Though initially I began my relationship with the Ross’ treating Nina as a patient, James and I grew close, first due to our shared passion for studying the mind, but - not to be a sentimentalist, you couldn’t know those two and not want to be around them. Their love for each other was infectious. And Michael – well, by the time Michael came along I’d all but fallen in love with him and that was before we’d realized his potential. We were very close.”

 

“Is that why you petitioned for guardianship after the accident?” Jessica asked, surprised by the genuineness in the man’s voice.

 

Ellis nods, his eyes instantly projecting a deep sadness at the slight reference to the accident that took the Ross’ lives. “As far as Michael is concerned I had known him from infancy. He grew into a sweet, shy, beautiful child – and when his intellect surfaced, I must admit I became somewhat obsessed. He was remarkable.”

 

Harvey bit off the ‘he still is’ not wanting to encourage the scientists obvious obsession. “So you started studying him.” Harvey supplied, realizing his own emotions were getting in the way of maintaining the lead in his line of questioning. 

 

“Treating him,” Ellis corrected.

 

“Treating him would imply he had a disorder.” Harvey countered.

 

“We were acting in his best interest, Mr. Specter.” Ellis sidestepped the issue. “If we didn’t take the initiative we did he may well have never reached his full potential.”

 

“Initiative...” Harvey snarls.

 

“A prodigy, Mr. Spector. With a mind unlike anything you can imagine. He was-”

 

“Harvey.” Jessica stands abruptly, drawing everyone’s attention to the doorway where Mike is standing stock still, his eyes wide, breath frozen in his chest, staring at Ellis.

 

“Treating me for what?” Mike forces past his constricting throat.

 

“Michael?” Ellis rises, regarding the newcomer with fond affection. “It’s so good to see you again.” He tries to take a step forward but Harvey is there, getting in between them just as Donna comes racing in from behind.

 

Taking in the scene, she presses her hand in between the blond’s shoulder blades able to feel the tremors vibrating against her palm. “Mike. Why don’t you sit down,” she suggests softly, worriedly, meeting Harvey’s eyes. 

 

Harvey shakes his head, but to his surprise, Mike nods, apparently blind to everything – everyone else in the room except Ellis, his eyes never leaving the scientist the entire time. 

 

Acknowledging the boy’s apprehension and fear, Ellis steps aside, tugging Kendall’s sleeve until he stands, both keeping a safe distance as Donna steers Mike toward the sofa. 

 

“I’m glad you are here for this, Michael.” The doctor placates, his voice unerringly tender.

 

“Treating me for what?” Mike repeats. “W-what was wrong with me?” He swallows and turns away obviously overwrought with emotion, when a firm hand squeezes his shoulder. Looking up, he exchanges a watery smile drawing strength from Harvey’s unflinchingly supportive gaze. 

 

“Nothing was wrong with you, Michael. You are a gift.”

 

“Look Ellis, you can stop with the double-speak, psycho-babble and adoration. If you came here thinking you could rekindle some long lost bond with my associate, you’re out of your mind and you can get the hell out of my firm right now. If you have something relevant to say then spit it out.” Harvey warns angrily.

 

“I do, Mr. Specter.” Ellis turns to Harvey. “You need to understand, knowing that Michael is intellectually gifted is such a small part of who he really is. Once you understand the full extent of his mind, how he needs to be handled will make sense.”

 

“Handled? Are you fucking serious?”

 

“Perhaps a poor choice of words, given the circumstances that brought me here. You’re absolutely right in your indignation, Mr. Specter,” Ellis readily admits. “I understand how this must sound given the things you’ve been told. I had the same reaction when James first brought his concerns about Michael to me. It became apparently very early on that Michael was an emotionally driven child. That combined with his gifts made it clear that if Michael didn’t learn how to put even the smallest ordeals most people take for granted, behind him; with his memory - recall for sight, sound and feelings, he would have had a very hard time moving forward in life. We had to come up with a coping mechanism to teach him to deal with physical and emotional trauma and emotions. It’s been in place since he was very young. It was… It was his father that actually recognized that Michael might need to change the way he processed information so he wouldn’t carry those experiences with around with him with such vivid clarity.”

 

“We talked about that.” Mike murmured to himself, a thoughtful look on his face. “The way I could recall everything. He said to think of it like when you walk outside on a bitterly cold day.”

 

At Harvey’s confused expression Mike continued. “He said, when your cold, you instinctually tense. All of your muscles seize and you wrap your arms around yourself because it’s more comforting from an inborn psychological standpoint. But in reality, you are constricting blood flow, which makes you colder. Instead of tensing you need to relax so the blood can flow freely and circulate to keep you warm. He said I had to treat the things that happened to me in daily life the same way. He taught me some meditation techniques to help distance myself from the memories. If I carried the memory of hurtful words or pain, the throbbing of broken bones and torn skin too close to the surface it was going to paralyze me.”

 

“He had to learn to separate most bad memories and not dwell on them because if he did he’d never take a chance, never ride a bike, never be able to move on. That method was a good start, but unfortunately didn’t always work for more severe instances. It was a combination of my work and your father’s belief that psychology and neuroscience could be combined to possibly treat serious cases of PTSD.” Ellis continued.

 

“So you’re saying it was all James Ross’ idea to electrocute his son. ” Harvey snapped.

 

“Electrocution…” Ellis scoffed, disgusted. “Stop embarrassing yourself and slandering our field speaking as if you actually have some knowledge beyond law, Mr. Specter.”

 

Ignoring the bait, Harvey counters. “You’re really going to sit there and lay blame on a dead man so you don’t have to take responsibility for your actions. You are some kind of scum bag, Ellis.”

 

“No Mr. Specter, you have it wrong. James didn’t have Mike’s intellect. But it was his outside of the box thinking that drew my interest and had me step up to bat for him for membership with the IBRA. What he did, he did to try to help you, son,” Ellis turns to Mike. “He recognized early on just how deeply anything from physical hurt to heartbreak would follow you throughout your life – the ECT studies that I was working on was something he’d always had an interest in for the benefits it showed in treating mental disorders. Initially he was hoping to help your mother. But after you were born, it became necessary - crucial, to your future to take a chance.”

 

“And how does a sleep deprivation study on a little boy tie into all this?” Harvey questioned dubiously.

 

“It wasn’t a sleep deprivation study, Mr. Specter. The medical aspects of what went on that week are going to be a grey area and questionable varying from expert to expert. But I digress. The camp was an idea I’d had for many years before I’d met James. It was supposed to be a place where kids with serious illnesses could have access to treatments only an organization like the IBRA could fund. Pierce was my mentor. When he became the Interim Grant Coordinator he said he could push the funding through. My proposal was for a month but Pierce said they’d only approved two weeks.” Ellis glanced toward Louis. “You’re Mr. Litt, correct?”

 

“I am,” Louis nodded, already flipping back and forth through his documents. 

 

“I think you’ll find evidence enough in those files to prove Pierce received approval to fully fund my proposal, but only a fraction of the grant money ever trickled down to the project. I received just enough to rent the grounds and obtain some of the drugs I’d requested. The staff was made up mostly of out of work technicians and students; not registered nurses and licensed aids. Though I didn’t find that out until later. Most of them were good people.” Eillis continued. “But Pierce only hired them because they were desperate for money. He underpaid for the staff and equipment and pocketed the rest of the money.” He then went back to addressing Mike, who seemed to be tense but paying close attention to what he was saying.

 

“And what did that have to do with Mike?” Harvey asked, now beginning to see the bigger picture, though not quite able to connect the dots just yet.

 

“The camp was a place where we could both challenge his intellect and allow him to interact with other children. We weren’t even sure we should attempt the ECT on you again, regardless of how effective it had been on you in the past, but we had to try.” Ellis seemed to be lost in the past for a brief moment before coming back to himself and turning to the blond. “You were involved in a serious accident, Michael. Do you remember it?”

 

“I wasn’t in the car with them that night.” Mike’s voice picks up in volume, but Harvey can see there’s less anger there than grief.

 

“Jessica. Stop this, now.” 

 

But Ellis ignores everyone else in the room remaining focused on the blond. “I’m not talking about that accident. I’m talking about the one when you were seven.” And that quiets Harvey immediately. “You were riding your bicycle by the highway when you saw something terrible.”

 

Swallowing hard, Mike closes his eyes. When he opens them again he looks surprised and confused. “When the goslings were killed? How do you know about that?” Mike subconsciously twists the arm with a quarter-sized patch of raised discolored skin underneath his shirt, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the neuroscientist.

 

“There were mostly bruises and scrapes. You broke two fingers on your left hand too, but you had a serious contusion to your left frontal lobe. Your parents had to take you to the emergency room.”

 

Mike shakes his head in denial but can’t deny what Harvey had shown him the night before. “I saw my medical records. But I…”

 

“Mike. The goslings were crossing the road in a line.” Ellis fills in. “Do you remember what happened?”

 

“A speeding truck swept the goslings up in its vacuum and they went tumbling across the road like - like dead leaves,” Mike finishes sadly. “It was the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen.”

 

Ellis sighs, not wanting to fill in the rest, but seeing he has little choice now. “Three people died in front you that day - thrown from their vehicles, others were seriously injured. They were bleeding and stumbling from their cars. Dying in the road.”

 

“You’re wrong. That’s not what happened. They were just – there weren’t any other cars. I’d remember that!” He finished in shout.

 

“What is this in aid of, Dr. Ellis,” Jessica’s voice breaks, disturbed by both the description of the accident she’d read about in the article Vanessa had uncovered, but mostly by Mike’s reaction.

 

Ellis ignores her and calmly continues. “You were visiting an outpatient psychiatric center in Upstate New York with your parents. One of my colleagues recommended it for your mother – she was going to admitted for an intensive two week trial of experimental SSRIs, psychotherapy and ECT. They didn’t want you to see the facility so they’d brought your new bike. The grounds were mostly fenced in, lining the highway. There was an accident – and you witnessed it.”

 

“No. I remember that day. I was riding along the fence and stopped to watch them cross the road. The geese. I remember that. A truck came down the road – it was speeding…” Mike’s voice shook. He closed his eyes against the memory, tears spilling down his cheeks, but the visual just became clearer. “The goslings got caught in a vacuum. Half a dozen of them - swept onto the shoulder of the road.”

 

Ellis nods. “And after that – what is the next thing you remember Michael?”

 

Mike started shaking his head. “I don’t… They were just babies. I wanted to see if I could help them.”

 

“Do you remember your bike?” Ellis continues, his voice growing soft, his tone that of a psychologist on the verge of a breakthrough with a fragile patient prompting Mike to continue. 

 

Mike nodded. “My mother, father and Grammy all saved for months to get me that bike for my birthday.” 

 

“It was blue with a white racing stripe,” Ellis adds and Mike feels violated that this man has such intimate details of his childhood. “You rode it everyday after school and washed it every Saturday.” Ellis recounts. “When was the next time you rode it?”

 

“I-” Mike turns to Harvey, that same panic stricken look on his face as the night before. “I don’t remember.”

 

Eyes locked with his associate’s, helpless to do anything including hold him Harvey doesn’t notice Ellis moving until he’s being knocked back, Mike body checking him, recoiling from Ellis’ attempt to get closer to him.

 

“It’s okay.” The older man attempts to placate the boy, hands held up in surrender to Harvey as the lawyer’s dark eyes blacken in fury while he instinctively wraps his arms around Mike.

 

“No. It isn’t. And if you try touch him again I’ll break your arm.”

 

“Understood.” Ellis nods. “It’s okay,” he says again. “That you don’t, remember Michael. You weren’t supposed to.”

 

“What did you do to me?” Mike asks brokenly burrowing further into Harvey.

 

Ellis smiles sympathetically. “First, I just want you to know that what we did – we did for exactly this type of event.” Ellis addresses the room but remains keenly focused on the blond. 

 

“A truck was speeding. The vacuum it created did knock those goslings across the road, but seconds later that same truck jack-knifed on a turn about a half-mile up the road causing a number of vehicles to collide. But you were focused on the geese. You rode your bike across the highway to see if they were alive when you were hit by another vehicle coming down the road. Luckily, the driver of that car heard the collisions and breaks locking up ahead and had slowed down considerably or your injuries could have been much, much worse.”

 

Mike shrinks into Harvey’s arms, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “You were rushed to the hospital with mostly minor injuries. It was later the next day that your father called me. It was all slowly coming back to you as if on instant replay - the faces, the blood, the sounds of the cars and people crying out. You were inconsolable.” Mike shook his head. “They couldn’t sedate you due to your concussion. You were so distraught. You spent hours upon hours recounting the scene, repeating over and over that they had to find the goslings...” Ellis’ eyes glazed.

 

“I still don’t get it.” Jessica looks around.

 

Watching Mike absorb what he was being told seemed to be taking its toll on the older man. “One’s ability to take control of their mind is paramount to their survival in any situation.” Ellis begins. “Most people are surprised to learn that a healthy amount of fear is necessary to keep people safe – it’s imperative to the flight or fight response. It tells people when to recognize danger and steer clear of harmful situations. In some cases, though, this fear can paralyze people, disabling them from making decisions at all which can lead to stress, anxiety disorders and even depression and suicide. In Michael's case his distraction becomes his sole focus. The aftereffects are well…”

 

“So what you’re saying is Mike’s eidetic memory was causing him to suffer from some sort of psychological trauma and that’s why you began the ECT on him.” Jessica says, trying to follow Ellis’ explanation.

 

“You started when he was four.” Harvey interrupts. “Just how much anxiety and fear can a person rack up in four years on the planet?”

 

“But you were already pitching the camp to Pierce.” Louis interjects. “What reason could you have had to involve Mike in it before?”

 

They all argue at once when Ellis finally raised his voice. “Michael was predisposed to depression.” He started vaguely. “The camp wasn’t meant to be anything other than a place to really test his abilities and have him in a safe environment where he could interact with other children while Nina received treatment. He didn’t make friends easily, and was…” The doctor hesitantly added, “was more comfortable with books than being around people. But after the accident,” he went back to addressing Mike, who seemed to be somewhat calmed and paying close attention to what he was saying. “You saw so much that day, Michael. And I’m not sorry you don’t remember it.”

 

“What did you mean regardless of how effective it was in the past?” Harvey’s disposition hadn’t softened toward the older man but there was definitely more to him than he had originally thought – his observations of how he was treating Mike affecting him greatly. 

 

Ellis reached into his briefcase handing Harvey a thick bundle of paperwork. “This is everything. You’ll find all of your answers in there.” A flicker of something in Ellis’ eyes clearly tells Harvey he should read through the papers before showing them to Mike. “And this-” Reverently he rests his palm on the top of a leather photo album. “This is for you, Michael.” Cautiously he hands it over while purposely not invading the blond’s space.

 

Hesitantly Mike opens the cover, sitting down heavily against the windowsill. “These are pictures of my family.”

 

The older gentleman smiles, pointing to a particular shot of the Ross’ with a pre-school aged Mike sandwiched between them – his blond hair overgrown and covering most of his face, his bright pink lips bowed in a slight, shy smile, the laces of one of his tiny, navy blue Converse untied. “I took that when we went to Tarrytown for the Sleepy Hollow cemetery tour and the telling of the ‘The Irving Legend’. It was your idea,” Ellis smiles. “You didn’t sleep for days afterwards until your father took you to the library so you could read up on it for yourself and to separate fact from fairytale.”

 

Mike swallows, running his fingers across his parents smiling faces before his hands trembles and he angrily snaps the cover shut. “I don’t remember that either.” His eyes narrow. “You say you were trying to help me. You stole memories of my parents from me!” He shouts. “I only had them for eleven years and I don’t even remember the first fuckin’ four! And now you’re telling me that you’ve stolen some of those too?”

 

“Michael. The mind is a delicate and complex machine. It wasn’t as though we could isolate the specific-”

 

“Fuck you!” Mike tosses the album aside and crowds into the man’s personal space. “Fuck you and your fuckin’ bullshit explanations. Want to see me separate fact from fiction. My parents are dead, and they aren’t coming back. And I don’t remember you. You are nothing more to me than a nightmare from my childhood.” Out of the corner of his eye he sees Donna open the door and heads her way. “Stay the hell away from me.” He finishes before storming out. With a nod to Harvey, the redhead quickly follows.

 

Exhaling deeply, Ellis reaches into his coat and pulls out his business card handing it to Harvey before gathering his things. “My personal number is on the back. I’m sure you will have questions. Don’t hesitate to reach out to me. Both of you.”

 

“Ellis wait. We have more-”

 

“Look over those documents, Mr. Specter. Then call me. I will answer all of your questions then.”

 

Turning, he nods to Jessica and Louis. “Ms. Pearson. Mr. Litt. The same goes for you. I was never hiding away from any of this – more being hidden. Well I’m done. Anything you require, any information, records, conversations – they are yours. And we can conduct the entire deposition for the record.” He turns to leave but not before adding. “And especially for Michael.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the delay. My mother is having severe medical issues. I could really use the positive words on the chapter if you're enjoying it. Updates may be slow in coming, but they are still coming. If you catch any typos, let me know. Thank you all for giving me the love you have been. Kudos and comments keep me going and make me smile - and I could use it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may know that I've had a bit of family trouble over the past few months. My mother had a hip replacement, followed by a stroke, followed by a massive seizure. They aren't excuses, but my mind has been all over the place and my chapter may be as well. This has been sitting, written, since June. I'm just getting around to putting it up now. Please let me know if something doesn't jive, and I will go back and correct while working on chapter 11. Thank you for your patience.

“If you really came here for him-” Harvey’s voice is guarded, but commanding enough halt Ellis’ retreat. “If anything you say is true then you’ll sit back down.” Not waiting for a response, Harvey takes his seat, and opens the folder. 

Following her partner’s lead with no more than a nod toward the sofa, Jessica takes the seat across from Harvey, Louis remaining by the window.

“Michael was suffering from insomnia.” Ellis says without prompting.

“As a toddler.” Harvey reiterates the point, while to sift through the papers.

“Yes. It’s actually not uncommon for children to suffer from poor sleep patterns, but Michael’s case was…” he pauses. “Different. It was our fault and severe enough that immediate intervention was necessary.”

Setting the file down, Harvey finally meets Ellis’ gaze silently prompting him to continue.

“As I mentioned Michael was always a shy child; painfully so. His parents and his grandmother were his entire world. About the time his intellect surfaced, he’d begun devouring information; newspapers, novels, movies – anything he could get his hands on, really. We were all too swept up with the novelty of it to take into account not all of it was suitable for a child his age despite his brilliance. Quite simply, he could not process the information.”

“Childhood trauma.” Jessica observed under her breath, drawing the attention her colleagues. “When I was a teenager my parents separated. I was devastated. I can only imagine what Mike must have been going through…”

Ellis shakes his head. “No. You can’t – statistically 50% of children lived in a single parent household after 1980. Divorce is a common psychological trauma. There is no bar for the type of trauma someone with Michael’s aptitude could suffer as no one exists that we know of that’s quite like him.” 

With a shaky hand, Ellis gratefully grasped the bottle of water Louis held out for him, swallowing thickly before continuing. “Noticeable changes in his personality surfaced quickly - difficulties focusing his attention, resulting in irritability and often frustration unable to reconcile with his surroundings. He couldn’t just go to a playground, couldn’t relate to the other children. He was having trouble expressing himself – he couldn’t modulate impulses and emotions. If James or Nina attempted to correct him he’d fold in on himself. He had a very low threshold for any type of emotion with negative connotations however gentle they were presented to him. Michael wasn’t throwing tantrums like a normal child, he was internalizing – he’d shut down and withdraw from their surroundings.”

“Let’s get one thing straight.” Harvey goes on the defensive again. “Mike is normal.” 

“No Mr. Specter,” Ellis snaps right back. “He’s not. He never has been and he never will be. Michael is extraordinary. The sooner you stop thinking I’ve ever thought that boy was anything but exceptional, the sooner we will make some headway here, and you’d do well to heed my advice as well. If any of you care about him the way you claim you need to make sure he’s protected.”

“That’s why we’re here, Ellis. You obviously dropped the ball.” 

Noticing Harvey’s about to lose his shit, Jessica quickly intervenes. “Everyone calm down. Harvey, Dr. Ellis stayed by choice. Whether what was done to Mike in the past was right or wrong, he obviously feels as though he was doing right by him or else he’d be lawyered up and across the city by now. And I know you’ve had a connection with Mike since the day you brought him into the Firm. It’s patently clear this topic is personal for all of us so whatever is discussed in this room today lets keep our focus where it will be most beneficial – on Mike.”

Silence reigns for long uncomfortable seconds before Louis finally chimes in. “Well, at least we’re admitting we’re dropping the pretense that this meeting has anything at all to do with Pierce and the embezzlement.” As he glances around at the shocked faces he continues. “Well it’s the truth.” He says slapping his own folder down on Harvey’s windowsill. “You were saying something about Mike’s mental state.” He prompts.

“’The mind vs. brain debate has been going on since before Aristotle. He and Plato argued that the soul housed intelligence or wisdom and that it could not be placed within the physical body. We were so focused on the scientific ramifications of Michael’s brain we overlooked him as a whole.” Ellis pauses, his voice softening, tone inflected with guilt. “Not recognizing that very fact was our sin against the boy as well. Without realizing it, we gave Michael an unfiltered adult glimpse at the worst humanity had to offer. Because of his aptitude, we neglected to account for his age; without the benefit of being able to differentiate fact from fiction, the information was overwhelming to his four-year old mind. It’s that simple, really, and we’re the fools for not seeing it sooner. So smart,” Ellis whispered depreciatingly. “The top of our fields…” 

Harvey closed his eyes against the scientist’s troubled expression, admitting to himself he could see exactly how this could happen and the implications of what Ellis was telling him would have on a mind like Mike’s.

“We made an egregious mistake handling Michael. We were so taken with his brain we disregarded his mind and the possible repercussions of what we were exposing him to. It wasn’t until his physical deterioration that we’d noticed – first, he stopped sleeping through the night. Shortly after, he’d stopped eating. We’d initially chalked it up to a typically picky eater, but…”

Harvey let out a shaky breath, as Ellis described Mike’s current behavior to a T. 

“James would find him in the early hours in front of the television or reading in the dark before the sun had even risen. Apparently once nighttime rolled around and the rest of us would look to the respite of sleep to recharge, the lack of distraction left Mike alone to ponder unbelievable amounts of information. With his drive to understand everything he couldn’t shut down. Within weeks he just became so frenetic with asking questions – unsatisfied with whatever answers he could come up with on his own, the desire to learn over-road everything including his body’s most basic needs.”

“While I understand Mr. Ross is unique,” Jessica chimed in, the picture of what life must have been like trying to raise a child like Mike beginning to take shape with vivid and frightening clarity, justification for the real issue had yet to be directly addressed. “Why not take him to-”

“A therapist? We did. We tried everything; herbal therapy, over the counter medication, meditation; all of it a stopgap. Nothing worked for the long term. Still, after everything it astounds me. He simply cannot forget.”

“So ECT.” Harvey finally found his voice. He could see it now, whether he wanted to or not it was obvious that James and Nina Ross were desperate to help their little boy. 

Ellis nods. “We didn’t enter into it lightly, Mr. Specter. James and I researched procedures, pharmaceutical options, and all possible side effects for months before we settled on ECT.” 

Misinterpreting the crestfallen look on Harvey’s face as disapproval Ellis raised his voice. “It was hard on all of us – to watch Mike go through that. Nina wouldn’t acknowledge the days we took Mike for treatment. She would retreat into her own little world – and James, he was stuck between the two; needing to hand responsibility of Michaels care over to me while trying to keep Nina from slipping away… You have no idea what they went through. What we all went through.”

“I’m not…” Harvey licked his chapping lips and took a small sip of water to stop his voice from breaking. “I’m reserving judgment.”

Jessica’s head whipped around so fast Harvey nearly flinched. “I assume you can prove this?” She asked gesturing to the folder. 

At Ellis’ nod Harvey cautiously continued. “He’s not…” he begins slowly, surprised at himself for taking this man at his word when only hours ago he’d thought him to be a monster. “Mike’s not sleeping.”

“He’s an associate Harvey.” Louis scoffed. “We all were. None of us slept or ate regularly.”

Harvey shook his head in denial, his eyes meeting the understanding gaze of Ellis. “This is different. I don’t know how I know, it just is. And the eating – I only just started noticing…”

“Because he doesn’t.” Ellis filled in. “Picking up a utensil and putting down again before actually eating anything. Always walking away from a full plate?”

Harvey doesn’t answer but it’s written across his features. “He’s been staying at my condo since this came to light. I find him up at all hours.”

“Or you can’t wake him in the morning, likely because he’d only been asleep for a brief period by the time morning rolls around.” Ellis sounds sad as he nods. “I can’t imagine him battling this alone all this time.”

Harvey’s memory immediately supplies Mike’s habitual pot habit he’d developed at an early age and gains a deeper understanding of the boy’s dependency. He’s a bit ashamed to have lumped him in with every other stoner-loser he’s come across in his life when Mike wasn’t anything close to that. He’s interrupted by his ruminations as Ellis continues.

“We hoped the ECT would work like a reset – foolish, I know. But it did help more than anything else we’d tried, some memory loss aside. His genius remained intact. Once we felt we got him back to a place were he could be a child again we were much more vigilant in what we exposed him to. We worked with the other methods – mental exercises and meditation, but then that accident happened… It was the only other time.”

Silence reigns for among the four, uncomfortable, but not between them. For once they are all on the same page – thinking about Mike. And Harvey surprises himself by being the one to break the silence. “How do I help him now?” 

***

After checking Louis’ office and the bullpen, Donna finally catches the wayward associate by the elevator. “Mike, wait!” Donna hustles down the hallway desperate to catch him, while managing to make running in heels look natural. “… Just wait,” she pants.

“You don’t need anymore coffee, Donna.” He replies flippantly, his hands shaky as he jabs at the call button. 

“You’re always looking out for other people, Mike. I like that about you. But don’t every question my caffeine intake again.” She waits, wanting to grab onto the witty reply like a lifeline, but the venom in Mike's voice has her taken aback when he finally continues.

“You wanted me out of the way. Harvey wanted me out of the way.” His voice is thick with betrayal.

“He wanted to keep Ellis away from you,” Donna corrects. “There’s a difference.”

“Semantics.” Mike cuts in, his voice rising in octave. “This – This-” he gestures back toward the way they’d just come, “isn’t even firm business. This is my business, my life, and I’m actively being kept out.”

“Harvey didn’t keep you out of this, he didn’t know Ellis was coming until an hour ago … okay,” she relents. “He may have panicked.”

“So he instead of sitting me down and telling me he lets me get blindsided.”

“No. He was hoping to avoid the confrontation all together.”

“Because I’m too emotional - a liability.” 

“Yes, Mike. You are.” She winces seeing Mike flinch but solders on. “To him, because he cares about you, Mike, and doesn’t want to see you hurt. He needs to be able to look at all of the facts of this case objectively and his feeling for you are only complicating matters.”

“The facts are what they are, Donna. We have enough to take Pierce down and put Kendall in control of the Northeastern District. Harvey’s the one making this harder than it has to be. If he’d just let it go…”

“Are you going to be able to let this go, Mike?” Her voice softens.

“It’s my problem.”

“No, it’s not.” Donna waits a beat knowing by Mike’s body language that he’s about to turn toward her and when he does… “And Jessica doesn’t seem to think so either.”

“Jessica… What does she have to do with this?”

“She scheduled the meeting.” When the car arrives they both step on. Mike keeps his eyes averted, attention on the descending numbers but Donna knows he’s listening. “She seems to have taken what happened to you as a personal attack against one of her own.”

“Jessica tolerates me on a good day.” He huffs morosely. 

“Because of your lack of a degree, Mike. If it wasn’t for that stupid piece of paper you’d probably be her associate.” Donna takes the slight upturn at the corner of Mike’s mouth as a good sign. “She said she was going to make them pay.” 

Her declaration has the opposite effect intended.

"And knowing what I know about law, that sounds to me like she's looking for a settlement. But money isn't going to fix this." There was an obvious ‘me’ he didn’t mean to be there but Donna heard it nonetheless. “I want them to drop this, or… or at least take me out of the equation,” his voice a whisper away from a shout. He's still feeling raw from seeing Ellis in person, with the added insult of the perceived slight by his lover and coworkers.

"You don't trust Jessica with this, I get that. But how about you put a little faith in Harvey."

"Don't do that. Don't treat me like a client that doesn't know what's best for them. I know how the game is played, Donna. I’ve heard this speech word for word - press until it hurts. Well it fuckin’ hurts, all right? It hurts that I’m not being trusted with all the information and that my pain is being used by everyone as a bargaining chip."

"Mike. Landing the IBRA is secondary in this.” At his dubious expression she’s met with she sighs in exasperation. “I’m sure when they first approached, Jessica thought she’d use their interest in you to woo them and reel them in, but now-” She grabs his arm, her grip nearing painful as she draws his attention back to her. “Now, you are the case Mike, and Its personal for everyone; and if you’re going to be pissed at someone be pissed at me. I’m the one that told Harvey to treat you like a client."

Mike stops short just as they reach the curb where Ray is waiting. "Why? Why would you tell him that?"

Noticing the tension, Ray quietly opens the door to the Town car, giving Donna a discreet not before getting back behind the wheel. 

Mike shifts back a step away from the redhead. “Why?”

“You know why. Harvey has always seen caring as a weakness; emotions are messy and exhausting. They make him second-guess himself. He’s had a strict policy of not mixing business with pleasure in place since before you were born for a reason. Then you come along – and you test him and challenge him and have him putting something above himself for the first time in his life without even realizing he’s doing it. Mike – he fell for you. He’s so far out of his element. And now, just as he’s come to terms with the fact that he loves you he gets this bombshell dropped on him. He’s needs to separate you from this for both of you. For your relationship.”

“What about what I need?”

“What you need is to step back and let Harvey do what he what he does best.”

He opens his mouth but Donna holds up her hand. “I know what the problem is Mike, and as much as this is hurting you, and you’re finding things out about your past your having trouble processing – you’re more pissed that Harvey’s taking point and asking you to take a knee.”

“He didn’t ask!” Mike yells. “He’s hiding things from me and sneaking around behind my back.”

“Because he doesn’t want to see you hurt, Mike,” Donna pleads for him to understand. “Which is precisely why I told him what I did. You know he’ll give you everything once this is over.” They both know she means everything, from the case to his support. “Because settling the IBRA business isn’t going to be enough for either of you. You need to let him compartmentalize this so he can focus.”

After a pause, Mike nods letting Donna gently maneuver him toward the car. “Just get in, okay?”

“I don’t know what to do.” Mike says to Donna once the door closes. 

“You let us take care of you, Mike.”

Mike rests his head against the passenger window. “I’m such a fuckin’ mess.”

“Most puppies are.” Donna smiles, gently patting the boy’s knee. “But we’re going to fix that… starting with your atrocious wardrobe.”

She may have mumbled that last part but Mike obviously heard part of it. “Excuse me?”

“So what’s the plan for today?” Ray conveniently interrupts.

Darting a glance toward Mike, Donna smiles. “Start out at Burberry, Ray. We’ll wing it from there.”

“Burberry?” Mike asks warily. “Why? Do they have a good selection of handbags?” 

“No. Well yes, but we’re not going there for me.”

“If we’re not… Oh no. No.” Mike attempts to open the door only to be caught by the arm. “I can buy my own suits.”

“That is not what we’re going for, honey.” Donna reaches across the seat to run her fingers through Mike’s naturally spikey hair. “Think…” She purses her lips perusing the image she’s conjured up in her mind. “Harvey casual with a touch of rich man’s boy toy.”

When Mike groans she chuckles. “You’re his, Mike. Own it. It’s not like his distaste of your wardrobe is a new development. You’re going to be spending more time together, in more intimate settings. He’s not trying to change you. But let him spoil you a little. It will make him happy. Besides, as hot as you look parading around the condo in daddy’s clothes, they don’t really suit you.” 

Skin flushed with heat, Mike has to turn away as the words ‘you’re his’ echo in his ears giving him a pleasant fluttering in his stomach. He hasn’t belonged anywhere in a very long time and he belongs to Harvey now, a man beyond anything he could have imagined in his wildest dreams; his mentor, defender, his partner, his prince, his friend, his white knight - his. And he doesn’t care how that sounds, he’s so okay with it he can’t even put it into words.

"So…” She begins needing to get the nasty business of his mother out of the way to know if they can proceed with the day as planned.

“You were eavesdropping on Harvey and Jessica, this morning.” He interrupts.

“I was.” She acknowledges, glancing out the window.

“And she’s taking the IBRA on because of what they did to me?” 

“We are.”

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Mike pondering the earlier admission of Jessica’s protective streak toward him Mike decides to break the tension. “And what personal information were you supposed to extract from me, Ms. Paulson?” He asks in a terrible German accent.

Donna rolls her eyes. “This is supposed to be my interrogation.” She exhales. “I only heard a partial conversation. Harvey mentioned that Vanessa found out your mother suffered from depression and that it was likely the catalyst for his correspondence with Ellis.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Mike looks thoughtful and Donna breathes a sigh of relief that Mike seemed to know. “She suffered from it on and off for years. I think that may be why my father made a point to celebrate the most insignificant moments, make them seem like they were the most important things in the world. It gave him a chance to help her forget… for a while, anyway.”

"Help her forget..." Donna repeats, a cold chill sweeping down her spine. She turns to look at Mike but the blond seems lost in his own head, smiling sadly, eyes glassy.

He remembers the random date nights where they’d dress to the nines just to go out for pizza and banana splits. It just seemed like silly fun when he was a child. His mother would smile brightly and laugh and her eyes would sparkle. He didn’t understand it then, but in hindsight, seeing that side of his mother was rare and short lived - once home she’d go back to staring past the television; vacant, always needing Mike or his father to repeat what they’d said because though she was physically present, she just wasn’t there. He tries to block it as much as he can but it’s always lurking in the back of his mind; that last night he saw them alive. His mother by the door in her purple dress and matching heels, her hair done up in a loose bun, complete with he best jewelry begging him to come give her a kiss goodnight; his father’s worn tweed jacket, smelling of library stacks and cheap aftershave, scratching against his delicate skin as he gave him a brief, but un-returned hug; giving him a sad but patient smile as he left promising Mike could come along next time and might one day understand. His gut constricts. He’d been so selfish, turning his back on them.

Donna watches the emotions play across Mike’s face and knowing where his thoughts must have gone and gently covers his hand with her own. “Mike?” She asks, smiling sympathetically as he comes back to the present. It seemed the more they discover about Mike’s past, the more tragic it becomes. “I said he must have really loved her.”

“I guess.” The blond shifts uncomfortably at the mention of his father and his potential motives and deliberately changes the subject. “And Harvey didn’t want to ask me himself, because…”

“Its not that he didn’t want to.” Donna can tell by Mike’s attentive stare that he’s not buying it. “Okay, he didn’t want to upset you.”

“Thank you,” Mike says sincerely, grateful for the honesty. “I think I’m turning out to be a bit more than he bargained for.”

Donna can hear the self-depreciation and regret in Mike’s voice. “I know you’re exactly what he needs.”

Exhaling shakily, Mike drops his head onto the seat and stares and the roof, picking at the upholstery. “I just know Harvey. He doesn’t do caring as a rule. I cried on his shoulder last night, Donna. I cried like a fucking baby. This must be a nightmare for him. ”

“Seeing you be torn apart and not knowing how to help?” Donna attempts to put things in perspective. “I imagine something like that would throw him.” She says aloud, thinking back to what Harvey said to her in his office about almost calling her the night before – about how lost he looked as he told her how helpless he felt. “What did he do?”

“He… held me until I feel asleep.” Mike swallows hard, glancing up to her knowing smile. “He told you.”

“Of course he did. Even if he hadn’t, I’ve known him more than ten years, his concern was written all over his face. You trust him with your darkest secret, Mike. Give him a little leeway on the emotional learning curve, but know one thing - he wouldn’t have started this if he didn’t care.”

Mike swallows and nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. “I really feel like I should be back at work,” he fidgets nervously feeling adrift thinking about his past and wanting anything to distract him-self. Wanting Harvey.

“But all that aside. Today, you and I are taking a personal day together. Do you know how many people would kill for an entire day with me?”

“Donna-” Mike shakes his head. “I can’t. Not the entire day. I’m not going to start slacking, especially now. Jessica will see it as a reason to fire me, Louis will never let me live it down and Harvey – Harvey’s going to see me as wea-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” Donna hisses. “First of all Jessica, Louis and Harvey go to you because you work harder than any associate at the firm, and your record for wins speaks for itself.” Mike opens his mouth, but Donna holds up a single, red lacquered finger cutting him off. “And second, you’re doing this for Harvey.” She lets that sit for a minute. “He’s not great with emotions but he’s trying. And lets face it, he’s just taken off his floaties as far as relationships are concerned and forget the deep end of the pool, he’s just fallen overboard in the middle of the ocean.”

“He’s all that’s keeping me from falling apart.” Mike admits, staring at the pavement as they finally exit the car and round the building to the brick-walled entryway.

“You need to tell him that, Mike.”

“I already forced him into telling me he loves me.” Mike laughs mirthlessly.

“I’m sorry, but in case you haven’t been paying attention, Mike, no one makes Harvey Specter do anything he doesn’t want to do.” She watches as he studiously avoids her gaze, looking everywhere but directly at her before grabbing his wrist. “Mike.” When he finally does look up, his eyes nearly brimming with tears and she steels her tone. “See this look on my face? It’s hardly breaking news. You may have forced the words out of him, but you are completely oblivious if you think Harvey hasn’t been in love with you for a very long time, now. It’s just a shame you both waited until something like this finally acknowledge it. He needs reassurance right now just as much as you do and you can start showing him by leaning on him more.”  
Donna sighs. “I was ready to have guide the two of you through his emotional constipation on occasion, but over the last few days I’ve heard Harvey admit to having more feelings then he knows what to do with. He’s in a constant state of panic, worried that he’s not doing the right thing for you. He just wants to see you happy.”

“He’s not sleeping.” Mike says quietly, as they make their way to menswear.

Donna smiles. “He said the same thing about you.”

“I’m keeping him up. That’s just great.”

“Because he’s worried about you, Mike. We all are.”

“I’m sorry,” Mike slumps his shoulders rubbing a hand across his face. “Last night must have freaked him out.”

“Yeah. It did.” She answers bluntly. “It would have freaked me out.” Mike nods, accepting that. “This entire situation isn’t something anyone can be prepared for. Let Harvey, Jessica and Louis do the heavy lifting this time, and Harvey, just let him pamper you a bit. It’s one of the perks of dating a very well off, very successful corporate lawyer.”

Taking his hand, she tugs until they are standing in front of a mannequin in slightly sheened slim cut trousers, a wide black leather belt and tank top. Stepping back she eyes Mike, then mannequin again then back to Mike.

“Definitely the pants and possibly the belt.”

“Are you serious? I’ll look-”

“Hot.” A thick French accent supplies from behind. A young woman, a bit older than Mike boldly flips up the back of Mike’s suit jacket checking out his ass before stepping around to face him as he takes a step back. Tipping his chin up with one finger she assess his features scrupulously before flipping open a leather folder. “You’re right about the shirt but I will know better what I am working with when I get him out of his clothes,” she agrees with Donna as she starts jotting down notes. “Charcoals, greys and blues to start. And we will build the pallet from there.” Her hand slips into the front of his pants and she gives a tug to Mike’s indignant ‘hey!’ but continues on. “These are much to big for you. You are maybe a twenty-eight.” Her hand then slips back and squeezes his ass.

“Excuse me!”

“You bike, yes.” She states making a few more notes. “I see why you may buy larger than you should-” She pauses, “though why you buy this?” She waves a hand obviously disgusted. “You are very slim, but if you must buy larger to accommodate your…” she slaps his ass.

“What the fu-”

“Mike shush.” Donna hushes, smiling broadly. “Let the young lady do her job.”

"We get them tailored." The redhead watches as the personal shopper diagrams Mike’s body by eye alone. “He needs room here,” she presses a single finger to the diagram Mike has yet to see. "Yes?” She smiles. “Someone is very lucky.” 

Donna produces Harvey’s black card and slips it into the leather binder. “Yes. Someone is.” She winks at Mike.

“Then lets get started,” the woman grins. “We’ll begin here and you tell me what the gentleman wants.”

“Oh,” Donna smiles at Mike. “The gentleman has what he wants. He just wants to show his appreciation for it.”

“Donna!”

“Very good,” the woman smiles in understanding. “Mr….”

“Ross.” Mike sighs.

“Very well then, Mr. Ross. Go to the fitting room over there.” She gestures to a very posh looking sitting room. "And I’ll be right with you.”

“Donna…”

“Mike. Go. Harvey wants to do this for you. Let him.”

“Fine.” Mike sighs as he does what he’s told.

“Miss…”

“Sophia.” The woman supplies.

“Sophia. I have a little errand to run.” She checks her watch. “Forty-five minutes at most. Think we can distract him for that long so he doesn’t know I’ve disappeared?”

“Mmm,” the brunette smiles conspiratorially. “Easily. Make a few style selections you think Mr. Specter would like and bring them to the fitting room. Then we hand him over to Gustav for proper measurements. He should be finishing up just as you return.”

“Perfect. We’re starting from scratch, so boxer briefs, Zimmerili’s if you have them. Some silk – I don’t think I have to point out the gentleman would like to accentuate his attributes. Kashmir sweaters, linen bottoms, loungewear, cotton and silk tees, a few pair of slacks, the works. Oh!” Donna snaps, almost forgetting. “Purses!”

“Strap or clutch?”

“Clutch.” Donna answers happily.

“Color pallet?”

“Surprise me.”

The brunette blushes. “I’m free this Friday.”

“I said surprise me,” Donna gives a seductive stare. “My number’s already under the card.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have no beta so all mistakes are mine. Apologies in advance – I am very out of practice and this is my first Suits fic. Feed me! Helpful critiques and comments welcome.


End file.
